


Waxing Pale

by TwinKats



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Multi, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Potterstuck, wizardstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinKats/pseuds/TwinKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody is displeased to have more help against Lord English or Jack, but everybody is confused as to how this new group of humans showed up on the meteor hurtling through the Furthest Ring. Everybody except Karkat who is just cursing up a storm and facepalming. Repeatedly. Of course they'd crash the party. They can never leave well enough alone, can't they. // Potterstuck</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was bustling at the Weasley-Granger home. Ginny and Hermione were both in the kitchen finishing up a meal while Ron set the table and chatted amicable with Neville. Luna was perusing through the bookshelves of Hermiones rather impressive collection of books. George sat at a modest desk near the fireplace, looking over the bookkeeping for the joke shop in Diagon. The crackling fire in the fireplace rose a brilliant green for a moment and out stepped Draco Malfoy.

“You're late,” Luna sang lightly, as she tugged a book down.

“Don't listen to her, Malfoy, dinner's almost done!” Hermione called from the kitchen.

If any wizard or witch were to look in on this abode they would be surprised at the lack of pure animosity from all present. In fact they would be completely shocked at the companionable comfortableness that seemed to encompass the entire group as Draco took a seat at the edge of George's desk.

“Long day at the Ministry,” the Malfoy scion drawled. “I apologize for the late hour.”

“Apology accepted,” Luna replied primly and dropped the book on Draco's lap. She walked past him and sat down at the table just as Ginny came out from the kitchen with the first platter. Everyone moved in a well timed dance. This wasn't new to them; they had dinners like this quite frequently.

Draco would always be late, work at the Ministry would keep him for far longer than he would desire. Luna would always take affront in jest, and Hermione would try to smooth things over. Ron would do his best to ignore Draco's presence, as he always had done since they were thirteen. Neville would be amicable to everyone, Ginny motherly, sisterly, and everything inbetween, and George would be their jokster of an older brother.

Once dinner was over, with all the practical jokes and small talk out of the way, they would pass to drinks and reminisce about the old days which weren't that old, really.

“Who would have thought it's been a year already,” Neville said.

“Yes, seems like nothings changed,” Draco replied.

Legislation was as it always was; Purebloods in power, Muggleborns suppressed. Nothing had changed. Nobody would think just a year ago the entire Wizarding World had been at war.

“Bet you things would have been different if Harry hadn't vanished,” Ron pointed out. “Bet you he would have changed things, he would. Bet you they wouldn't have forgot him so quick if he were still here.”

“Ron!” Ginny snapped. “You know he only wanted his normal life. He didn't want all this. He didn't want the fame.”

Luna snorted into her glass of wine. “Didn't want to be so human more like,” she said softly and ignored the glare Ginny sent her way.

“Well at least the joke shops running good, and McGonagall's got things in hand up at the school,” George put in cheerfully, or as cheerfully as he could.

Hermione had been silent through most of the exchange. She took a sip of her glass, almost imperiously, and then set it down. “We are in agreement though, aren't we,” she said after a minute. “Things...would be different with Harry around.”

“They'd be better,” Ron corrected, taking Hermione's hand. Hermione tugged it back after a minute and looked away. Ron frowned but let her be with a sigh. It may be the Weasley-Granger household, but that wasn't because of a marriage; perhaps, at one point, it could have been but not now.

Ginny nodded emphatically to Ron's comment. Draco closed his eyes in almost regret, a bit of anger, a bit of sorrow, a bit of _something_.

“So much unfinished business,” he muttered disdainfully. “Bloody Potter.”

“Better, different, sure,” Neville agreed lightly. “He was leader. He knew how to get things done.”

“Great for a laugh,” George rolled his eyes, but that was all he said. Harry was kin in some ways, and in other ways not. George was still recovering from the loss of Fred, and all of them knew that well in hand. They gave him his space in that regard and didn't push as much as they could.

“Different, yes, better...perhaps, perhaps not,” Luna interjected, her eyes weren't dreamy but sharp with something that the others could not quite fathom in a knowledge they could not quite see. That knowledge faded away, the sharpness bled back into the dreamy spaced Luna they'd all come to know and in some ways love. “But that is not why you brought it up is it, Hermione?”

“No...” Hermione shook her head. “It's...been a year.”

“Yes, Granger, get on with it,” Draco drawled, and then winced at the slight glare Ron sent his way. Luna snapped her fingers twice to draw attention back to Hermione so that she could begin speaking once more.

“It's been a year and nothing has changed,” Hermione continued. “We know Harry didn't...we know he didn't just run away. He defeated Voldemort--”

“Defeated?” George interrupted. “'Mione, the bloody wanker went ripped that bastard right in two! Then spit on the pieces, pissed on them, and burnt them to shreds. I think he did a mite bit more than defeated.”

“Yes, well, we all know Harry had a bit of a temper...” Hermione coughed lightly. “Anyway, right after that he just...fell asleep which we also know he was wont to do and all and then he just sort of vanished.”

“In little gay sparkles,” Draco interjected blandly. “Yes, we know. You've been researching it since. So?”

“So,” Hermione continued archly. “I think I found us a way to get Harry.” 

Luna sighed. “Finally. I thought you'd never figure it out.” The entire room fell into hushed silence as Luna snapped her fingers. Luggage, shrunken and prepared showed up right at her feet, and she relaxed back in her chair with a dreamy smile as she swirled her drink. “When do we leave?”

* * *

 

It took a year of preparations, much to Luna's utter disappointment. She had much higher hopes for Hermione than this, and a portion of her just desired to reach out across the expanse of space, and time, through the void and into the vast reaches of the Furthest Ring where there resided dream bubbles and Messiahs and everything that awaited them and call upon dark powers that the others couldn't comprehend and just _speed things up_. Luna refrained; she had more restraint than most people she knew and could See, and the Wrackspurts would clear around Hermione's head eventually. It would take a year, and they'd be older and perhaps wiser maybe and it'd all work out.

One would hope.

So it was another year of the same old same old. Draco set his affairs in order. All of his monies and properties were to be given to Astoria Greengrass on the off chance that he didn't return in twenty years, with the chance that he did return within Astoria or any of her children or grandchildren's lifetime the monies and properties would be returned to him. The Weasley's made peace with their family in some respects—they hinted and the prospects of studying abroad, and begin to slink away from their Mum's grasping fingers, slowly cutting off contact with guilty expressions. George bequeathed his shop to Lee Jordan, the remaining jokster friend he had with the honest promise to live up to the Marauder name.

Luna already had all her affairs in order, which left Hermione, who hadn't retrieved her parents from Australia after the war so she didn't have to do much, and Neville who only had to set his own vast inheritances to rest. His grandmum had a right fit over everything, but Neville had it all worked out in the end. Apparently old alliances wouldn't let Harry's disappearance to rest and Neville was, by their creed, required to go. So he set his affairs in order so that Susan would take care of his family names and properties and everything, including having any children to carry on his family legacy if he should fail to return. He'd left behind specific ingredient, spells, and potions for that use later down the road, and it was all contractually agreed upon by both parties.

So the year passed, slowly, as each individual member of the odd ragtag group set everything straight and Hermione got the spell and ritual ready to cast until the fateful day, one year later, when everything was prepared. Hermione and Ginny were both in the kitchen, like last time, finishing up dinner. Luna was perusing the bookshelves, only this time she was picking books off and putting them into a rucksack for safekeeping. George was looking over his bookkeeping for the jokeshop one last time, a last minute double check of the figures before he finally handed it over to Lee. Ron and Neville were setting the table with amiable chatter. The fireplace flared green as Draco stepped through, dusting off imaginary soot from his emerald green robes.

“I apologize for the rude hour,” Draco drawled. “Last minute paperwork at Gringotts.”

Luna looked up from the bookshelf and smiled as Ginny stepped out of the kitchen and set the first of the food on the table. “Oh, don't worry Draco. You're right on time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck yes this is a thing now. I will damn well make it a thing if I have to. I'm good at that, I think. Anyway, here's my wicked brand of humor coming into play. With Luna. You gotta love Luna.
> 
> I'm not going to go into details about when or what universe of Earth HPverse is or whatever, that'll be explained away eventually. Everything will be explained away eventually. Or you can figure it out on your own. I will say this: Most of the story will take place, from this point, in the past. Why? Because fuck, most of the “present” takes place in the present of the comics and dammit I need more updates to make this story work! Gamzee had BETTER not be evil or you had better bet I will be fixing it! I so will! Cuz while sober he is sexy beast motherfucker he is goddamn not evil no fuck no no no no no. I like Gamzee too much for him to be working for Lord English like everything seems to be hinting towards.
> 
> He's just insane. Not...evil. I will be motherfucking PISSED if he is evil.
> 
> Anyway, if the title is not a hint, then wake up and smell coffee: this story is obviously gonna mostly be about Karkat and Gamzee's Moirail shit. Hopefully. Although I find it amusing and weird that Kurloz's Moirail was Mituna. That's just...I woulda thought it woulda been Kankri. To mirror Karkat and Gamzee, right? But nope. Weird...guess not everything is the same....
> 
> Then again, don't see Nepeta/Gamzee either so eh.


	2. Chapter 2

It was late Hallowe'en night, early November morning. The paperwork stacked on Albus' desk needed just a few more signatures to be considered finished. They were war-time provisions for Hogwarts, care packages for the recently orphaned students. Three new names had been added just tonight, the owls delivered to his office during the Feast.

_Miranda Miles_  
 _James Rands  
_ _Ian Roland_

The list grew longer and longer each day, and each day Albus' heart grew heavier and heavier with each new addition. With a sad flourish he signed the last page of the updated document and set the paperwork aside. Fawks, on his perch, trilled soothingly.

“I know, dear friend,” Albus replied, and stroked his beard. “Sometimes I feel like I'm putting all of my eggs in one basket, when I should be out there fighting.”

The Potters and Longbottoms, safely hidden away under Fidelius. Both were aware that, if Voldemort found them then it meant their child was most likely the Chosen One. It would be a hefty burden, and neither parent wanted it to be true. Albus truthfully didn't want it to be true. However all of his research and scrying, an art that while he wasn't proficient he was rather _decent_ at it, had revealed to him that Voldemort had power and magics of which he couldn't comprehend. It would take him at the very least a decade of searching, of research, of looking back through history and time and delving into the depths of darkness to find what Voldemort—what _Tom_ had done to himself specifically to create this monster of a man he became.

Fawks trilled lightly again, once, and then took flight just as several of Albus' whirling gizmo's started screeching. Albust leaped to his feet. His chair crashed back and then to the ground.

“The Potters!” he cried, the red hazy smoke emanating from his gizmo's was only meant to appear if it were the Potter wards that fell. This was terrible news. It meant that the blood wards needed to be prepared, which meant he had to prepare himself for ritual casting, and this was counting on if young Harry even survived the encounter. If anyone survived the encounter. The poor child, what a difficult life he would lead.

Albus waved his wand once, to silence his instruments and set them into peace. He then grabbed a quill and an inkpot and drafted a letter, several actually, based upon several varying conditions. As the emerald ink began to cool he turned to cast a Patronus with his wand. The door to his office burst open before he could get out “Expecto” and in came barreling Hagrid with Fawks on his shoulder.

“'E came t' me lookin' quite hassled Dumbledore,” Hagrid. “'As somet'in 'appened?”

Albus nodded sadly. “Yes, Rubeus, I'm afraid so. The Potters were just attacked. I need you to go check on the house, find out if there were any survivors. Bring them to Privet Drive.” Subtly he cast a few condition charms connecting whatever Hagrid found to the letters, which folded up on his desk, ready to be mailed off to the profit. “I'll be there, waiting for you my friend.”

Hagrid let out a great big wail and Albus shed a few tears. He stepped around his desk, patted Hagrid on the shoulder, and handed him a hankerchief.

“Time is of the essence Rubeus,” Albus said softly. “You must hurry. The wards at Godrics Hollow have fallen, anyone could stumble upon the place. _Anyone_. Young Harry could be in danger.” Albus couldn't stress this more, the poor boy needed to be in safe hands as quickly as possible and, unfortunately, Godrics Hollow was not accessable by floo, or apparition. Best Hagrid could do was catch the Knight Bus outside of Hogsmead and that was a tricky ride. It could take hours to get anywhere.

Hagrid blubbered for a second, blew his nose, and nodded once.

“Yer can count on me, Dumbledore,” he said, blew his nose again, and left the office. Albus sighed. That was one complication down. Hagrid was trustworthy, completely loyal, and would get there as quickly as possible. Now Albus could focus solely on preparing for the ritual which would take most of the day.

* * *

Albus arrived at Privet Drive late, as he expected. By the time he could apparate to the corner of Magnolia Crescent he had been forced to take a train from Hogsmead to Kings Cross. Hours of ritual preperations, at his age, could take a lot out of ones magical prowess and he needed to be as pure and untainted magically as he could be for casting the ward net over Privet Drive as he could get.

Bloodwards of the nature he desired to cast would be the darkest, and the lightest, of the wards. They were, legally, not sanctioned by the Ministry. Knowledge of their existence was in fact restricted. Dumbledore by all rights probably shouldn't even know they do exist, except that he had read about them, and unearthed the ritual, in an obscure tome in his younger years.

Albus darkened the streetlamps in preparation with his Put-Outer, the night must be light only by moonlight and starlight, although the occasional house lamp was perfectly alright. He glanced towards Minerva, sitting rigidly as a cat on the brick half-fence of Number Four, staring at the house with disdain.

“Minerva,” Albus murmured thoughtfully, and fluidly Minerva switched from cat to human.

“Don't tell me you are placing him here, Albus,” Minerva said. Her words where sharp, her eyes narrowed. There was the barest hint of her scottish brogue. Perhaps the placement would not be as comforting as Albus had hoped, but it would be for the best.

“It is for the best,” he said. “His mothers blood will provide protection for him.” That's what he hoped for, at least. Harry had survived, at either rate, and it looks like Lily and James didn't survive as Albus had predicted.

“So it is true then? What they're all saying?” Minerva questioned. “All the celebrations, the parties...you'd think we hadn't heard of the Statute of Secrecy before!”

Albus nodded, his gaze trained on the sky. “Yes. It is true. Tom is...” dead, perhaps, but Albus does not believe that rot. More like biding his time, hidden away. “...defeated.”

“And Harry did?” Minerva continued, disbelief colored her tone. “Do you honestly believe a one year old child--”

“I believe Lily and James had a hand in things,” Albus said sharply, giving Minerva a _look_ over his half-moon spectacles, “that, yes, gave young Harry an edge of Tom he wouldn't have had otherwise.” The power of love, perhaps. Albus had always had this odd penchant that love would save the day, romance and love—the one thing Tom could never understand, the one thing Lily and James had in spades for Harry. Yes, if he was right it was love that Harry would have in spades, and that would be his special gift.

Or that could just be his fancy wishy washy nonsense coming into play, but Albus had one of his really rare special _feelings_ in this case. Like the ones he had about Gallert, all those years ago. That hadn't turned out into as much of a disaster as he'd thought it would be in the end there, either.

“Ah, look, here comes Rubeus now...” Albus murmured, interrupting whatever Minerva was about to say.

She, in turn, shot him a _look_. Albus refrained from wincing. They would, apparently, be having words about his appointment of persons sent to retrieve young heroes. Hagrid landed a familiar giant motorbike and killed its engine rather quickly. Sirius' motorbike if Albus was correct in his assumption. A frown threatened to cross his face. Perhaps he should have warned Hagrid about Sirius as a threat before sending him off?

“Is he okay, Hagrid?” Albus said, by way of making sure Black hadn't done anything to the child. Hagrid nodded, and pulled out the handkerchief from earlier.

“Fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol,” he said. “Li'l tyke.” He blew his nose. “B-But poor L-Lily an J-James....” Great wailing sobs threatened to break forth and Albus stepped forward and carefully patted Hagrid on the back.

“There, there, my friend. Their sacrifice wasn't in vain,” Albus said softly. “We will always remember them, and protect their son. Always.”

Minerva curled her lip, slightly in frustration and in slight disgust and Hagrid's unprofessional behavior. She moved to the sidecar to pick up Harry and her curled lip turned into a pursed frown.

“Albus,” she said slowly, and lifted the child up, “does this, perhaps, look like everything is perfectly alright to you?”

Albus looked over at the child in Minerva's arms and paused, for a minute. His heart skipped a beat, and he forgot to breath. There in Minerva's hands was not the child he thought or remembered seeing Lily and James holding when Lily gave birth, except, for a minute he didn't remember Lily ever giving birth or being pregnant. There was a pause and his mind took a moment to reorder itself as things shuffled around and became clear and a secrecy spell broke like an egg.

 _Oh_. Well, this certainly complicates matters. Perhaps complete isolation is a rather poor choice for the child's upbringing, then. Albus lifted the boy from Minerva's grasp and cast a simple, light memory charm on her and Hagrid, and then set about on fixing the wards themselves. They'd need to be adjusted appropriately. Of course they were still bloodbased, just not familial-or-love based, exactly. Protection would still be provided, with constant check-ups and check-ins, of course, over the years to make sure young Harry was being raised right with no complications. Petunia would just have to deal with it, unfortunately, because young Harry was a rather special child all things considered.

Albus smiled, once he had everything set up, and placed the boy wrapped in a soft red cocoon on the doorstep of the Dursley household with a note. He placed a rather simple spell over the child that would last the first few years, with a note explaining that he'd be by in a few years to check up on the boy and explain a few things then. With that said and done, Albus ushered Minerva and Hagrid off to celebrate.

“You will do great things, Harry Potter, or shall I call you _Karkat?_ ” was the last thing he said to the young, gray skinned, slumbering grub on the doorstep with a slight knowing smile on his face that vanished almost an instant later, along with Albus himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while. I went through four possible renditions of this chapter, before I decided upon this one. Yeah. I got that annoyed with it. So enjoy, motherfuckers.
> 
> Oooh, how does Dumbledore know this shit? How did Karkat show up on Earth like that? But wait, isn't he on Alternia? Somethings wrong here right! Well wait and find out.
> 
> Yeah I'm keeping it short this time. Why doncha all review next time okay? Okay. Ciao.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thousands of years in a past-that-wasn't upon the Land of --computingerrorunknownunknown-- and Frogs gathered the surviving players of the Game...._

Kankri fought back a shiver and rubbed his arms together. He glanced between Kurloz and Meulin, who were miming back and forth near hyper-actively, then Latula and Mituna as they did awkward stunts with their skateboards. Mituna fell down and hit his head more often than not. Meenah was off by herself, as usual, staring pointedly at the gaping entrance where Aranea had gone through with a frown and her arms crossed. One of her feet was tapping out a rhythm. A nervous tick. Porrim was close by, she was always close by, if Kankri was perfectly honest.

Sometimes he didn't mind, and sometimes he did.

“What is taking her so long?” he asked after a minute, hunching down. It was supposed to be a short thing, go in, talk with Echidna like a crazy person. You were supposed to _talk_ with your Denizen but whatever, Aranea always did things backwards. The even more frustrating thing was that she wasn't even showing up on Trollian anymore. Completely logged out entirely, otherwise he would pull out cool portable shades and slip them on.

There wasn't much of a point when he could just _talk_ to every body around him though.

“Perhaps it is not as easy a for a solution to be found as we had first thought, Kankri,” Porrim replied calmly. “Be patient. She will return.”

“It is your Denizen, shouldn't you speak with them instead?” Kankri said back sharply, perhaps a bit impetuously. Porrim had to fight back a sigh.

“We have been over this Kankri. It is better for Aranea and Echidna to talk than Echidna and I. They can come to a more fortuitous agreement then I can, and you were the one to send Aranea in there in the first place, Kankri Vantas.”

Kankri flushed. “Yes. You are right. Of course. I think I will go and take a bit of a nap, Porrim. Perhaps that will make the time pass faster.”

Kankri stepped away, over to a bit of the wall that was more isolated, and sat down. He curled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms about his knees. He made a pathetic sight, but then Kankri generally always made a pathetic sight. It was just a bit worrying that Kankri wasn't talking as much like himself, long-winded and self-righteous, but Kankri hadn't been as long-winded and self-righteous the longer and longer they'd been stuck in the Game, especially when it became all the more apparent how royally fucked up they all were.

Porrim turned her attention away from Kankri, and as she did so missed how his eyes seemed to glow with the color of his blood. A second later Kankri closed his eyes and breathed out slowly and _concentrated_.

* * *

 

Petunia Dursley planned to have a good day on November 2nd, especially after the rather unsettling day of November 1st. When she got up that morning and gone downstairs to fetch the milk, it was like any other day. Except for that morning there was an unusual child on her doorstep, fast asleep. Petunia's first thought was to scream for Vernon, because that seemed rather logical, except attached to the child's red blanket was a gray, normal envelope addressed to her in red ink.

At the moment of seeing the child and his dark hair, Petunia's first thought was that it was obviously her sister's brat. However the typed letter that was on plain paper—colored paper yes but actual _paper—_ made her think twice. Perhaps this was a legitimately abandoned child, then, although why anyone would choose Number Four to drop a child of and why in the middle of freezing November? Petunia scoffed, and with greater care than she would have at first brought the child inside with the milk.

With nearly a year of motherhood under her belt Petunia was quite adept at handling a child in one arm and handling chores with the other, so she put away the milk and then opened up the letter and poured herself a glass of orange juice. Calmly she perused the oddly typed words and the more she read the more she began to frown.

_ Petunia Dursley _

_ The y9ung wriggler that y9u are currently h9lding is rather special, and while I d9 n9t presume t9 6elieve y9u will ever c9me t9 care f9r him in any f9rm 9f the w9rd his safety has f9r n9w 6een entrusted t9 y9u. Please d9 n9t take this lightly as there is plenty f9r y9u t9 6e educated a69ut in regards t9 his care. _

_ First, f9r many 9f the several seas9ns t9 c9me the y9ung wriggler will be c9nstantly sleeping. There is n9t much y9u can d9 a69ut this and I already kn9w y9u will l9ck him in a st9rage cl9set. This is p99r treatment and in many circles c9nsidered a6use, y9u are quite lucky y9u get away with it at all. During the slum6ering seas9ns he will n9t need much sustenance aside from the 9ccasi9nal milk fr9m a h99f6east that y9u call a c9w. _

What at first seemed like a simple, one page letter, turned into nearly a full document on how at first Petunia should care for the child in her arms to eventually how she most likely would end up miscaring for the child in her arms. Eventually Petunia had to put the letter down. Not once did it mention the child's name, instead calling it 'wriggler' for some unfathomable reason.

Petunia looked to the child in her arms and couldn't help but smile softly. “Oh you poor dear,” she said, her heart breaking. The poor thing must've had such a horrible time if it came from whomever wrote that note. “You're previous guardians must have been unfit for you. Don't worry, we'll make things right.”

They had been discussing the idea of having another child, Vernon and Petunia, although with Petunia's condition that wasn't likely. While both parents preferred to have a daughter another son wouldn't be too bad. Vernon already made enough that they could care for two rambunctious little boys, and that was all that mattered to Petunia in the end. 

Decision made, Petunia binned the entire letter and put it out of mind. In doing so she completely missed how it seemed to shimmer, and then disappear from existence shortly thereafter. After all, its job had been done.

* * *

 

As the years passed, and passed, life changed in the Dursley household. What once would have been a chance at a happy life turned in short order to sour and ruin. Petunia had read that she would place the child in the cupboard under the stairs, that he would act odd and sleep a lot. That he would refuse most food and require only milk after certain days.

After a while it became apparent that the letter Petunia had binned rang true, whether Petunia remembered the letter at all or not. A year passed into two, then three, and four. The young child never quite grew out of being constantly tired but he did grow taller, and perhaps more freaky with every turn of the year.

At first the child was just silent, he rarely ever spoke and just stared at them in confusion when he was awake. Petunia had thought it was stupid, perhaps some form of degenerative disease or maybe she had messed up somewhere, feeding it only milk. Eventually she quashed such feelings down, deep down, and with Vernon's help they raised the thing (it ceased to be a living breathing human after the third year) to help around the house.

Then it spoke, just once, to ask where its “lusus” was and once Petunia and Vernon had figured out what a lusus was from the child and suitably responded to such freakish notions the child never asked questions again. He remained silent, slightly fearful, and did as they bid without much question. When he was six there was a short visit from the aged Headmaster of Lily's school and Petunia nearly had an aneurism.

It turns out the thing _was_ her nephew after all.

Vernon was away at work that day, thank goodness otherwise blood would have been had instead of just words, when the knock came at the door. Petunia stood over the stove, ladle in hand. It was beef stroganoff tonight, in honor of Vernon's promotion at work. The thing was washing the dishes dutifully beside her where she could keep an eye on him. Dudley was at Piers for a playdate.

The door rang again and Petunia lowered the heat on the stove.

“Coming,” she called, shot a warning glance to _it_ and strode from the room. She dried her hands on her apron, checked her hair in the hallway mirror, and answered the door. He stood there in the doorway, maroon colored robes and a blinding smile in his face.

“Hello Petunia, may I come in?” Albus asked pleasantly and Petunia barely held back the scream that threatened to escape her. She glanced about, just to check that the neighbors weren't watching, and ushered him in.

“What are you doing here!?” Petunia hissed through clenched teeth. “Is there something my sister wants? Is there something you lot want? You are not welcome here! In, in, before the neighbors see you!”

Albus stepped inside and Petunia slammed the door. They eyed each other both, for a minute, and then the old man offered her a lemon drop which she refused with a sneer. They continued to just stare at one another in dead silence.

“I'm here to check up on young Harry,” Albus said cheerfully after a minute.

“Who?” Petunia asked. There was no one by the name of Harry here, as far as she knew. Then it hit her, the _thing_. “It was _you?_ _You_ left him here on our doorstep with that _letter?_ That odd _thing_ of a letter? That _abnormal boy?_ ”

“Well I did warn you Petunia that he was a special child,” Albus chided lightly. “Now where is he? I would like to check up on him, make sure you followed the directions as best you could.” There was a slight frostiness to his words as he spoke, a coldness that sent shivers down Petunia's spine.

“I-I'll just go get him then,” Petunia said after a minute and went right back into the kitchen. She tugged _it_ from the sink and dried _its_ hands and then brought _it_ to the wizard in the hallway. “Here. Are you...are you taking him away from here?” At the frosted glare Petunia winced, perhaps she sounded a bit too eager.

“I'm afraid not, Petunia, this is the safest place for him,” Albus said sadly. “Would I if I could, though...oh, do be a dear and fetch us something to snack on? We'll be in the sitting room if you don't mind.” Gentle handed Albus steered the child into the living room and set him down on the couch. With a few pops and groans he set himself down before the child as well and smiled soothingly. For a moment the child stared back at him, fearful, and Albus turned to glace at the doorway just to be sure Petunia really wasn't going to show up with snacks.

“What a horrible hostess,” the old man sighed. “Oh well. Hello, little wriggler, my name is Albus.” The child stared back at him with wide eyes, wary and fearful.

“Where's my lusus?” he asked, after a minute. “An' my hive?”

Albus nodded sadly. “Don't worry, they're right where you left them.” A bit braver now the kid tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

“Where's that?”

Albus smiled secretively, “Oh but telling ruins the mystery, and a good mystery is what makes an adventure fun youngster. Now you tell me...are you being fed enough here?” He nodded once and looked down. “Good. Know that this is the safest place for you right now, youngster. You may not understand why yet, but you will in time.”

“Safer with my lusus,” the kid growled back. It was kind of cute and Albus had to fight down a smile.

“I know, and you are,” Albus sighed.

“Why they look funny?” the kid asked after a second, feeling braver now that he knew questions weren't a bad thing. “Like, like hornless pink trolls.”

“That, little wriggler, is a question you will have to ask me again when you see me next,” Albus said after a minute of thought. “If you don't know the answer by then, ask again.” The kid crossed his arms and pouted.

“Fine.”

“Good. I have to go now, but remember. You are safest here for the time being, and your lusus is right where you left him. He always will be.”

Albus got up and walked out of the living room, the kid stared at him as he left, a frown on his face. Before he had completely vanished though the kid called out, “Nubby!” a bit angrily and Albus paused, blinked and turned around confused.

“Excuse me?”

“You a stupid nubby grubfucker,” the kid snapped and glowered angrily, before storming back into the kitchen to finish with the dishes. Albus blinked once.

“That was a horribly rude thing to say,” the aged man murmured. “Horribly rude, potentially triggering.” He turned on heel and left with a sharp crack.

A bit of the secrecy spell broke even further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kankri's appearance probably does not mean what you think it does. Let me tell you that. Let me tell you it probably means no where near what you think it does. This shit gets so convoluted that even giving you that much of my plot (which is not much of the workings why) only 3 chapters in isn't the dip into the pool. Its just a taste of the crazy to come.
> 
> This is what I am good it people. Crazy, twisted, turning, insane little plots that are so convoluted you won't know every minute detail until its happened. Or just how interconnected it all is until its done. So yeah, this? This isn't even the tip of the iceburg. It's not even a taste of what will be coming soon.
> 
> Although hopefully that's enough of the secrets (aside from whats up with Karkat on Earth specifically) to be revealed until 2nd or 3rd year. At this moment, given how Homestuck updates have taken a turn of the TEASINGLY SLOW (according to my roommate who claims that normally its several pages updated a day) I will be dragging out Karkat's time on earth for as long as possible. Whether that be by slow updates, or long-focus on years at Hogwarts, I dunno yet. We'll see.


	4. Chapter 4

It didn't take long after Albus' visit before Petunia put two and two together, but everything came quite crashing down in her little universe shortly thereafter. Her sister, Lily, was dead. _It_ was obviously her nephew, and she'd been a right horrible aunt that had completely, truly, ruined a human being because some letter told her she would. That night she sat up in the living with the television on and watched tear jerking romance after tear jerking romance as punishment. She ate ice cream and sobbed to herself.

Life in the Dursley household however did not change. At least it did not change by much, and when it did begin to change the changes were tiny at best. Such as Petunia giving _it_ a peanutbutter and jelly sandwhich alongside the glass of milk every day. Or when _it_ began to speak a bit more, although words were mostly mumbled under _its_ breath and were crass enough that Petunia oftentimes would swing her frying pan at _its_ head in punishment.

Nobody in her household would speak such crass language. Not even her brain-fried _nephew_.

Then one night, during Petunia's by then nightly punishments of sitting in front of the television with a tub of ice cream and sobbing her eyes out while watching a movie, _it_ got out of the cupboard. _It_ had walked over to her, and looked up at her, and then climbed onto the couch and curled up beside her.

“...how did you...get out of the cupboard...” Petunia asked after a minute, sniffling lightly as she turned down the volume. _It_ hunched down and buried _its_ face into _its_ knees a bit.

“I picked the fucking lock,” _it_ replied in a low grumble. Petunia swatted _it_ over the head. “What's this?”

Petunia swatted _it_ again for the question and blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes. “It's a...horrible movie.”

“Why you watching?”

“Because I'm a horrible person,” she sobbed. _It_ frowned, and shifted to put _its_ chin on _its_ knees and then papped Petunia on the shoulder and said, awkwardly, “Shoosh.”

From that point on Petunia would watch romantic comedies in the middle of the night, _it_ would pick the lock on the cupboard door, they'd sit in rather companionable silence while Vernon snored asleep upstairs, and for a while Petunia would feel less like a horrible person.

* * *

 

Time flew all too fast after that and all too soon it was July the 31st and there was a knock on the door. _It_ was in the kitchen, washing the dishes again, although _it_ was doing so in a sullen and angry manner that Petunia was certain will end with her dishes in ruins. Vernon was yet again away at work and Dudley was over at Piers for a playdate. It's one of his last playdates before he starts secondary school at Smeltings. Petunia has never felt more proud.

The knock at the door sounded again and with a sigh Petunia left _it_ to the dishes with a stern glare. She primped herself in the hallway mirror, just to be sure her hair was right, and then answered before there can be a third knock. Best not to be rude and all that.

Albus was on the doorstep in red colored robes this time, and Petunia's entire outlook turned sour.

“In, in, before the neighbors see you!” she snapped quickly, and pulled the older man in by the scruff of his beard. This time she doesn't bother to hide her disdain, or even to dispense with the pleasantries. She's quick about everything, efficient-like. “You're here for him, I take it, to take him off to that... _school_ of yours? Well we have an issue. Vernon won't approve, and I need a good enough damn story to get the boy out of the house for him. Tell me you have one, or you won't get him. I know I have the right to refuse this.”

Before Petunia, Albus sighed. To him she picked a rather terrible time to be overprotective, but now was as good a time as never perhaps.

“Arabella, at Number Eight, has noticed that Harry has not gone to school,” the elder replied blithely. “She has reported this. Authorities have talked to you over the past weeks, you haven't mentioned it to your husband until the paperwork is finalized. Harry will be attending a specialty boarding school during the school year, and returning here in the summer.”

Petunia nodded once. It was unappealing, to have involved authorities and such disgraceful issues of the like, but in some ways it was close to the truth she supposed. It would pacify Vernon at the least.

“He's in the kitchen,” she said bluntly. “His bags are with him. I expect not to see him return until the end of the year, on our doorstep, in perfect working condition.”

Albus nodded once and stepped past Petunia. She watched as he collected _it_ with a soft smile and gentle voice, picked up his bags, and how almost hand in hand they left the house. She did not shed a tear.

She sniffled once, rubbed under her eye, and went back into the kitchen.

She did not shed a tear. 

She did _not._

* * *

 

The trip to Diagon Alley was not as uneventful as Albus would at first presume it to be. First the child is a slew of questions the minute they are out the door.

“Nubby grubfucker where's my lusus?” he demands instantly. “Were are taking me fuckass? Where the fuck are we?”

Albus was as patient as he could be, breathing slowly in to calm himself from the sudden onslaught of questions.

“Your lusus is where you left it, I told you this the last time we met, wriggler,” he replied slowly. “I am taking you to a place called Diagon Alley where you will acquire your supplies for school.”

“I don't fucking school, nubby,” he said back with a glare. Albus has to close his eyes this time and count for a second.

“All young wrigglers will be schoolfed,” Albus said back. “That is how things are. But then you already know this, so why are you playing the idiot wriggler?

“Maybe because I want some fucking answers for once instead of mysterious bullshit, you nubby fucking moron!” the kid shouts, actually shouts, and Albus smiles. That is the child he expects to see more of soon enough.

“And you will have your answers in due time, or else what good is an adventure?” Albus stated. Karkat huffs and lowers his head to stare at his shoes. Pleased that, for the moment there is an agreement amongst them, Albus raises his wand hand and summons the Knight Bus. The resulting _bang_ and appearance of the purple double decker causes Karkat to freeze. His eyes are wide, his mouth falls open.

A slight curve curls at Albus' lips. This is why he is doing this personally, to see this reaction upon the child's face. That and really, his personal hand needs to be in this little prophesy a bit more considering the situation. If he sent Hagrid, hell might have reigned down. Doomed timelines would have cropped up and since nobody was quite aware of this position of paradox space to correct the issue, well, the issue would never be corrected.

There would be no coming back from a Doomed mistake here, Albus had to tread lightly. He had to place his sticky fingers every, to ensure the proper outcome. It was for the best in the end. The Greater Good?

Perhaps he should do away with that monicker, actually.

Proceeding through Diagon Alley, once Albus had nudged Karkat aboard the Knight Bus, was met with the same wide eyed slack jawed outlook at the Knight Bus had been given. At least for a minute, the it was met with a curled nose and quite a few rude curses about the state of Diagon Alley and how run down it was among other things. Or about being dragged to the bookstore, the potions store, the pet store where Albus purchased an owl and gave Karkat a stern look and the comment to treat her properly.

“Why?” Karkat demanded. “I don't need a fucking hawkbeast or any kind of feathered fucking beast!”

Albus sensed the imminent tantrum and quickly interrupted, “Wriggler you will need her later down the road, for mail and other such things. There are no mail drones here, and she will be a loyal companion to you.”

“Why the fuck aren't there any fucking mail drones? What kind of shitstain retarded backwards assholish hell is this?” Karkat replied grumpily.

“Such words are potentially triggering and I would suggest watching what you say,” Albus said back, blinked, and then pinched his nose. “Oh dear. Come now, more to do.”

They continued on with the shopping spree, entirely bypassing the giant white marble building that Karkat eyed a little fearfully. Albus practically paid for everything out of a little cloth bag instead of taking Karkat to a place resembling a bank. Their last stop was an old shop where they picked up a wand.

Up until that point the entire shopping spree was rather normal, if a bit hurried. Albus kept ushering Karkat along quick enough that nobody would recognize his galmoured persona. It was inside Ollivanders were things took a bit of an interesting turn.

“This place is giving me the fucking creeps,” Karkat grumbled, and nearly hid behind Albus red robes. Albus smiled kindly down at the young troll and tried to be reassuring, although truthfully Ollivander gave _him_ the creeps as well.

Behind them both, out of the shadows, stepped Ollivander himself.

“I do ever so strive to please,” he said lightly. Karkat jumped in the air, and Albus barely withheld himself from jumping as well. “Albus Dumbledore,” the old man said, peering to the great wizard through his spectacles. There was a pause in the examination. “Ah, perhaps I should correct myself? You seem to be less pretending to be yourself these days, and more acting like yourself don't you old friend?”

“Garrick,” Albus greeted in reply, he smiled but it seemed rather tight. “We are here for a wand for a rather special young boy that you just terrified the living daylights out of. I know you like your kicks, but really. Must you right now?”

Ollivander blinked and then peered down at Karkat who had tried to shift behind Albus again, but Albus kept a rather tight hold on the child to keep him in Ollivander's view.

“Another one of you, then?” Ollivander muttered, although to whom was debatable. “What's this ones name then?” That was a question directed to Albus.

“Harry Potter,” Albus said slowly, as if he were talking to someone particularly stupid. Ollivander paused, blinked, looked at Karkat again, and then looked back at Albus.

“Oh you are joking,” he said after a second, then sighed, and then went on as if there was no exchange that had happened just then. “Well then, every Ollivander wand is made for a perfect fit. Which is your wand arm boy?”

“Er, what the fuck?” Karkat asked.

“The hand you write with you dull child,” Ollivander clapped his hands twice and stepped around both Albus and Karkat. “Come, come, I haven't got all day.”

“He's right handed,” Albus interjected as Karkat continued to stare, utterly baffled, as a tapemeasure rose up and began taking measurements.

“Well then, continuing on, the wand chooses the wizard and all that. You honestly don't really care, I suppose, so I'll just leave it at that,” Ollivander bustled off with a muttered, “None of you aliens do, honestly, no respect,” and then returned and shoved a wand into Karkats face. “Holly, dragon heartstring, twelve and three quarter inches. Wave it, child.”

Karkat, bewildered, wide eyed, more than a bit completely blindsided by what was going on, waved the wand. The shop's far wall promptly exploded in an impressive display of wood and fire.

“Oh dear,” Ollivander muttered. “That is not it at all.”

Albus sighed. This was going to take a while.

* * *

 

Three hours later and Albus and Karkat were practically thrown out of Ollivanders near decimated shop. Karkat by this point was dead silent, near comatose by information overload. Albus felt a little bad for it, but there was still more to do. He purchased a room for Karkat at the Leaky, set the kid up, gave him a list of instructions that he was certain the boy would obey if only out of mind numbing fear.

Poor thing was such a child, so young and utterly confused. It made Albus a little awkward, pulling Karkat into Hogwarts at the normal human rate when obviously it wasn't quite ready enough for him just yet, but they couldn't push this off. Besides, he knew the boy would arrive well in hand, and that was that.

“Right, Tom will bring you up food every day,” Albus listed off again. “The abulation room is just there, this will be your respiteblock until its time for school to start. When its September 1st Tom will remind you to head out, make sure you have everything packed in your trunk. Step outside the Leaky, raise the wand—don't give me that look—and the Knight Bus will appear. Give them these coins and say Kings Cross. Platforms Nine and Ten.”

“I got it, nooksniffer,” Karkat grumbled. “Don't need to tell me 'gain.” He's already said it about ten times now out of worry.

“Be careful, stay safe, I will see you when you arrive in one piece,” Albus said after a minute, and then hesitated. He patted Karkat on the head and smiled. Looks like the boy's horns had gained a few centimeters since he'd last seen him.

“Hey! Don't do that!” Karkat messed with his hair and glared back up at Albus who smiled again and then walked out the door.

When Albus was back at Hogwarts not much later he paused and sucked on a lemon drop, worried that he forgot something important. However nothing important crossed his mind, so perhaps he didn't forget to tell the young child anything of importance after all. After all, it wasn't like he forgot about the famous glamour or anything like that.

There was a pause, and then, “Oh, bugger.”

Eh, the kid could figure it out on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kept growing. I skimmed most of the details, because the details are useless and boring at this point. Anyone who knows Harry Potter probably knows them by heart. All you should care about is what being Karkat will change, and that's what will be addressed, for the most part. Aside from that, I really don't wish to go into long winded detail about it all or I will be here for ages writing about stuff that most likely won't hold your interest, with details that aren't that captivating.
> 
> Aside from that, yes, yes I so went there with Karkat. Behold, his obsession with romcoms and romance and where it all begins. This is how it starts. Cue my evil laughter and other bullshit. Whatever. I'm kind of despondent right now, or not up to evil cackling. Stupid Signless is trying to overtake my head with ideas and its annoying.
> 
> Between him, Ψiioniic, and Gamzee my head's very, very crowded. Not to mention the chaos Luna is trying to get up to. So yeah, please excuse my while I attempt to quell the bunnies. I don't want to cull them, but I might at this rate. Its getting out of hand.
> 
> Enjoy your long chapter, I've gotta go. More soon.


	5. Chapter 5

_Long ago before the banishment of Adults on Alternia...._

He sat out on the cliffside, overlooking the edge of a long drop towards the sea. They were far from any seadweller's region here, it was one of the few safe cave networks that existed. Abandoned Trial Grounds generally were safe to hide in and to make home in for those that did not have a hive. His knees where bent up, his hood was down, and his gaze was skyward at the stars.

“You had another one of your dreams, didn't you Kankri.”

Kankri let his lips curl, silently amused about how she had taken to calling him by the name that wasn't his. Not anymore, not really. Once, in a world of peace that didn't exist, that had been his name. Here though, on Alternia, he was just an abandoned signless grub. A mutant, fit only for culling, with dreams that made no sense. Dreams of a world that was impossible.

“Yes,” Kankri said after a minute. Behind him the Dolorosa shifted and then sat down, folding herself until she looked as regal as she always had. Even in his dreams the Dolorosa had been his mother figure, the alien term sliding easily on his tongue as if it had always belonged there. As if it had always belonged to _her_.

“What did you dream of this time?” she asked and stared up at the stars with him. 

Kankri was quiet. In his dreams the Kankri-he-wasn't talked a lot, spoke of justice, of equality, of how one should not mistreat another for disability. The Kankri of his dreams was a judgmental fuck and Kankri-here-and-now could see that plainly. He'd been a right ass, but he'd been _epic_ in ways that nobody could understand. Not then, and not even now.

“Death,” Kankri said after a moment, bringing his head down to bury his face in his knees.

“Death is not a stranger,” the Dolorosa replied calmly. “What specifically has shaken you?”

Kankri smiled despondently. That, there, was why mother had always been the right term for her. So alien, so foreign, but so correct for _her_. She knew every nuance of his-self, past and present. Kankri-that-wasn't and Kankri-that-was.

“The death of everything,” Kankri said softly. “The death of us all.”

* * *

 

September 1st rolled around without much fanfair. Karkat didn't really leave the respiteblock that Albus had brought him to, he didn't find much need to. Instead he stayed inside, eating the meals that the elder human brought him and reading through the books that Albus had purchased as part of his supplies. They were confusing, and stupid, and Karkat found all of this rather rediculous.

On September 1st he followed Albus' directions to the letter, packing everything away into the trunk and dragging it down the stairs and out the room. It took two hands, and all of his strength, and Karkat refused any help offered to him with a snarl and a glare.

One of the women huddled away in the corner giggled about how cute he was, dragging his trunk out of the building on his own. Karkat just scowled and dragged the trunk harder out the door. Once he was on the curb he scrambled his think pan for Albus' instructions.

“Right. That stick thing,” Karkat said under his breath and rooted the stick that the creepy old human sold him from his trunk. The cage for the hawkbeast rattled lightly as the young snowy creature shifted in her sleep. Karkat didn't spare her much of a glance as he hunted down the wand thing. Once that was in hand, and his trunk once more clasped shut, he held it up as per Albus instructions.

The Knight Bus arrived with a bang. Karkat jumped, the hawkbeast screeched and barked in her cage angrily. It took a second to banish the pure terror from his mind.

“Welcome t' th' Knight Bus, public transport for ye stranded witch 'n wizard. M'names Stanely 'n I'll b' ye conductor this mornin'. Ey boy, ye goin' somewhere?”

Karkat dragged his trunk towards the bus and grumbled out, “Kings Cross.”

“Hogwarts, are ye? Well come on, come on. Can't miss ye train then,” Stanely cheered, waved his wand, and stored the trunk onto the bus without even a by-your-leave. Karkat worked his jaw soundlessly, little clawed hands curling into infuriated fists. 

Then the hawkbeast screeched again and the young troll scrambled to retrieve her and her cage before scrambling back onto the bus.

“Rides free for Hogwarts students t'day only, ye lucky,” Stanely said lightly and the bus took off with a bang as Karkat seated on one of the beds. He promptly went flying off it a second later, spewing curses all the while.

* * *

 

Karkat was haggard as he stepped off the Knight Bus. His think pan swam in that dizzying manner that made his protein chute want to projectile vomit bodily colored fluids all over the place. Quite easily the young troll would, at this stage in his life, admit to tottering around in half-hazard squiggles nearby his trunk as he attempted to regain his balance.

It took far longer than Karkat would have liked, and eventually he just fell flat on his ass against his trunk to wait out the dizziness and swimming of his sponge, his thoughts, and the food that was settled inside his body turning to mush.

When he did get up, finally, it was to drag his trunk over to platforms nine and ten and then wait. Karkat wasn't sure what he was waiting for, just that Albus didn't specify anything else after this point like some idiotic fool whose had too much mind honey and sopor slime to screw around with.

The young troll sat on top of his trunk, one hand lazily tracing the Alternian alphabet while he stared out at the crowd bored. He had sat there for what felt like hours when the red haired people walked by. Karkat's gaze had immediately snapped to them and the bright color of their hair in wide eyed shock.

“Packed with Muggles as always,” the elderly woman of the group said quite loudly. Karkat watched them bustle past. “Come, dears, don't want you all late for the Hogwarts Express.”

Hogwarts...wasn't that the name of the place where he was supposed to be schoolfed? Karkat leaned over at the waist to peer down at the side of his trunk, taking in the upside down letters of the strange alphabet that Petunia had him memorize a few years back.

_H o g w a r t s_

Karkat was pretty sure that most likely spelled Hogwarts, the schoolfed place he needed to get to. He straightened up and hopped off the trunk and stalked over to the portly woman.

“Hey.”

The woman turned, blinked, and smiled kindly.

“Hogwarts, dear?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Karkat replied, a little wary about her. Would she cull him for his question? Granted she had bright _red_ hair. Red was a mutation. Red was cull-worthy. Red was unwanted.

_Red was safe._

“You just have to walk through the wall,” the woman said kindly. “Here, let Fred and George show you.” She motioned toward the two boys who looked exactly identical—where they clones of some sort? The two bowed with wide grins.

“Don't listen to her,” Fred said cheerfully.

“Our names are Gred,” George continued.

“And Forge!” Fred finished.

Karkat just scowled at the twins, who glanced between each other and the grumpy, childish face.

“Yikes, tough crowd,” George said under his breath, and Fred nodded in reply. Their mother herded them towards the barrier and with great, put upon sighs, they waved goodbye and raced through. Karkat watched as they seemed to meld into the wall and vanish. 

“Do you need another demonstration, dear?” the woman asked sweetly, peering down at Karkat who shook his head. “If you're afraid best go at it with a bit of a run. It's my Ronnie's first year too.” She patted the youngest looking red headed male and Karkat glanced at him, before stalking back to his trunk and owl.

By the time he dragged his trunk through the barrier the red heads were long gone.

* * *

 

The train ride was long and for the most part boring. Karkat settled himself into an empty compartment and curled up on the seat where he could watch the country side whirl by in flashes of color. He kept one hand on the cool glass, admiring the bright green of this world. The only time there was ever green that bright was the forests, or lawn rings around a hive, and only in the daytime.

Daytime was death, Karkat knew that, but here Daytime was _life_. It was frightening to behold, sometimes, how the sun didn't burn. It should burn, it should blind and blister and destroy, that was what the sun was supposed to do after all. This sun did neither, and it was beautiful to behold—to see the colors bright and shining in daylight instead of muted in night.

At some point during the trip, after the train began to roll down the tracks, one of the red heads from the station entered the compartment.

“Mind if I take a seat?” he asked and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “All else is full.”

Karkat shrugged and kept one grey eye on the newcomer warily, shifting away from the window. Fear was an ingrained trait, perhaps even genetic. Mutantbloods had right to fear, but this one didn't seem to fear as Karkat did.

“My names Ron, Ron Weasley,” Ron introduced. “What's yours?”

Karkat wanted to say Karkat, but he remembered what Albus had said about safety and protection. His name here wasn't his own, and neither was his face. They saw one of their own kind from him, and expected their names.

“Harry,” Karkat said after a second, tasting the foreign name on his own lips for the first time. It felt strange. “Harry Potter.”

If there was one thing that Karkat would never understand, it would be why he was given a _famous_ persona as a form of protection. Ron openly gaped at him and began gabbering about scars and whatnot and Karkat, well, he just scowled. And scowled. And then yelled.

“Will you shut up already you ignoramus shithead? I don't fucking care about any of your nooksucking heroworship! I'd rather have a goddamned load gaper shoved up my waste chute than deal with any of that bullshit! I'm just a fucking wriggler whose going to get schoolfed like anyone else on this fucking wheeled device just over a sweep and a half old! So fuck off with your flushed intentions already!” Karkat breathed out heavily, his clawed hands clenched into fists.

“Oh,” Ron said after a minute. “Uh. Sorry.”

With a huff and a cross of his arms Karkat returned to staring out the window. He didn't apologize because there was no need to, but he did lose a bit of the pissed off look to his face that he had a second ago. A minute later Ron seemed to bounce back and was describing all sorts of random nonsense to Karkat, who just remained silent for the most part aside from an occasional curse filled reply. There was a slight smile to his face, though.

It was a budding friendship.

About halfway through the trip the budding friendship was interrupted only by the presence of a bleached blond haired young boy. The bright yellow color of his hair left Karkat blindsided for a moment. It wasn't the mustardy color he would expect from a psionic, but it certainly landed itself in the same hemospectrum as a psionic would. Although the kid spoke like he was a higher blueblood, or even a royal purpleblood and left Karkat with sharp pain in his teeth.

“They say Potter is on this train somewhere,” the boy said in a drawl. “I assume that's you?” He looked to Karkat, who for once was thankful that his disguise gave away no clue that he was a mutant blood. “Why are you hanging out with riffraff like a Weasel here? The hand me down clothes of their kind tells it all. You could do so much better. The names Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Karkat eyed the hand that was thrust in his face, the insulting boy who acted like he was higher on the hemospectrum than he was. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, or rage exactly. After a second rage won out.

“What the fuck is wrong with you all? How many flushed fucking intentions am I going to get? What part of we're too fucking young for this type of shit do you guys understand? Seriously go play your douchenozzle seadweller royal act elsewhere you fuckass before you make me vomit up sick with your ugly face.”

The slapped and horrified look on the brats face was worth it, at first, but then following enranged look made Karkat blink and feel a bit queasy. Was this guy seriously looking for quadrants this young? He was not remotely interested in filling anything at this time. Couldn't the idiot understand that?

“Do you know who I am?” Malfoy demanded sharply.

“No, fuckass, and I don't care,” Karkat reiterated slowly. “Now get the fuck out of my face before I decide to shit rage snake and make it choke you. Fucking moron.”

With that Karkat slammed the door shut, sat down, and buried his face into his knees. He ignored how Ron crowed about the entire exchange. Karkat was more concerned about this school, and how he now might have a guy with a hatecrush on him.

This school was going to fucking suck. For a minute, Karkat wanted to sleep and forget all this existed. After a second the young troll drifted off without warning.

And promptly woke up in his recuperacoon, to the screeing of his lusus who peered over the edge in mild concern. Karkat blinked, sleepily, as his lusus pulled him up and out of his recuperacoon and over towards the thermal hull. It fished out a juice box for him while his brain was still, sleepily, trying to piece together what the fuck just happened.

That was one weird as fuck dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Karkat decided to give me a grand old fuck you and there you go. We're drifting off to Alternia now for a while. Not for long, just a little tiddlebit, really. So yeah, have fun figuring this one out.
> 
> I'm not sure if this whole shitfest was Karkat's influence, or Luna's actually. At either rate, enjoy. Also the brief bit with the Signless/Sufferer up there? Yeah, that's...they're knocking at my head going 'Hey! Hey! Give me attention!' so they're getting attention.
> 
> Enjoy.


	6. Chapter 6

The train slowed to a stop; outside it dusk was settling into night. A bushy haired know-it-all had stopped by the compartment twice—once to ask about a lost frog or toad of some kind, and the second to mention that they should get changed. After she left Ron shook Karkat in an attempt to rouse him, but he didn't wake up so Ron left him to sleep. Except now they'd reached Hogsmead Station and Karkat still wouldn't wake up.

“Harry? Mate?” Ron asked and shook Karkat's shoulder a bit harder. This only elicited a soft snore. Ron grimaced, his mind jumped to worrying conclusions. He wasn't strong enough to carry Karkat out of the train himself, but his brothers were and Ron knew they traveled to the Castle differently and would most probably meet a teacher sooner than he would. “Just stay right there; I'll be right back mate.”

Ron tore out of the room and down the corridor of the train. He asked the nearest older students if they'd seen his brothers, and they pointed further down at a compartment where loud laughter could be heard. Ron squared his shoulders—he knew Fred and George's friend Lee had brought a tarantula aboard the train—and marched onward.

The compartment door was open already; Fred and George were dressed in their school robes and laughing at some joke that Lee had said. Fred was leaning on George, pounding the seat. George had tears in his eyes. Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, two chasers for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, sat with Lee in the middle, likewise laughing.

“Er, Fred? George?” Ron asked. He kept a wary eye on the box that held the spider.

The twins sobered up a bit, although they still had wide grins across their faces. “Yes ickle Ronniekins?” George asked.

“Are you in need of something?” Fred chuckled. Their smiles were terrifying in some respects. Ron fully expected to be pranked.

“Um, yeah,” Ron fidgeted. “You remember that bloke from the station? That asked mum how to get on the train?”

The twins frowned. “Tough crowd,” Fred said with a nod. George hummed back. “What about him?”

“Er, well, you see...” Ron glanced to Lee, Alicia, and Angelina nervously. He remembered how Karkat had just gone off on him and Malfoy before he fell asleep, and was a little wary of spreading around his name just in case the smaller kid started yelling again.

Fred and George exchanged looks. They weren't dumb, and Ron obviously didn't want to share something in front of their friends. George chuckled and waved his hand, standing to his feet. Fred slipped at the loss his pillar and face planted into the plush seats of the compartment.

“Hey!” Fred shouted and George laughed.

“Sorry, mates, but duty calls!” George cheered. He bowed slightly, and then glanced to Fred. “What are you doing laying down? Ickle Ronniekins needs our help!”

Fred grumbled, pulled himself up, and punched George in the shoulder with a teasing smile. They both waved to Angelina, Alicia, and Lee who voiced understanding sentiments. Both twins wrapped an arm around their younger brothers shoulders and lead him out of the compartment.

“Lead the way, Ronniekins,” Fred said joyfully.

Ron led them back down the corridor as the train slowed to a halt. Students began to pile out of their compartments which made travel tricky and talking in the halls virtually impossible without being overheard. He entered his compartment, the twins followed him in.

“He fell asleep a while back and won't wake up,” Ron said a bit nervously.

Fred and George exchanged glances. “So?” they asked together.

“Well...um, I can't carry him and...it might be something serious?” Ron replied, fidgeting.

“Then tell a teacher when you get to Hogwarts!” George rolled his eyes, as if that were obvious.

“But...you don't understand...” Ron struggled to explain.

“Hey Gred...” Fred frowned, peering down at Karkat who was slumbering away. “I think Ron might be onto something here.”

George turned to Fred inquiringly and Fred pointed to Karkat's forehead. George slipped around Ron and peered down, a second later he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Blimey...” George breathed out after a second. George and Fred exchanged glances, and then pulled out their wands.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked, panicked.

“Reenervation charm,” Fred said stiffly. Together they cast the spell, but there was no change in Karkat's slumber. The twins exchanged glances again.

“Did anyone show up at the compartment?” George asked next, feeling for a pulse while Fred gently shook the slumbering child.

“Malfoy,” Ron spat. “And some bushy haired know-it-all. I think she was a muggleborn.” The last bit was said softer, but no less annoyed.

“Right then,” Fred sighed. “We'll take him up to the castle with us, and get him to Madam Pomfrey.”

“Poor bloke,” George sighed. “Off to see the mediwitch on his first day.” They exchanged rueful grins. 

“Now you go get with the rest of the first years, Ronniekins. Your big brothers Gred and Forge will handle this,” Fred said lightly. George picked up Karkat while Fred shooed Ron off.

* * *

 

Albus was already in the entryway, waiting, when Fred and George showed up with Karkat in their arms. He had a small smile on his face, it was a mixture of fond exasperation and slight amusement. The twins exchanged awkward glances, especially when Albus motioned for them to follow.

“Thank you for bringing him up to the castle safely, Messers Weasley,” Albus said as they walked. He had a slight bounce to his step, which both twins found weird. Who would be happy about their _hero_ fast asleep and unable to wake up?

“Sir, how did you....?” George asked, and Fred nodded emphatically. Albus twinkled back at them.

“I have my ways, boys.” Truthfully he did a tarot reading earlier, and a slight bit of scrying, and a few other awkward rituals that didn't bear thinking about. He wasn't all that great at the future seeing thing, but tried his best and this time it looked like things worked out pretty well.

Last time, well, Albus would rather not remember that. His ears were sore for weeks.

Madam Pomfrey was already aware that a student needed her care. Albus had informed her the minute the train hit the station. Minerva, Severus, Filius, and Pamona were waiting in the infirmary as well. Each were worried about the prospective student that already needed medical attention.

Albus and the students arrived quickly. Minerva gasped at the sight of Karkat in Fred and George's grasp.

“Albus, that's--” Minerva started but Albus waved a calming hand. Madam Pomfrey got to work quickly.

“Place him here, boys, and then off you trot,” she said briskly and led Fred and George to one of the beds. The two teens set Karkat down.

“What's wrong with him?” they asked in sync, curious.

“Never you mind,” Filius squeaked. “Come, come, head to the feast and don't you worry. Let us sort things out.”

Pamona gently ushered the twins out of the Hospital Wing as Minerva was too busy glaring at Albus to do so herself. Pomfrey ran a few diagnostic scans on Karkat and subtly Albus shot off a silent spell to fix a few of the results she'd undoubtedly see. A frown crossed her lips and she cast her spells again, Albus quickly following up with his own to make sure the results appeared wholly human.

“Well? What is wrong with Mr. Potter?” Severus sneered, and Minerva turned with Filius and Pamona to give Pomfrey their full attention. Albus simply popped in a lemon drop and hummed cheerfully, fully aware of what Pomfrey was going to say.

“My scans are finding nothing wrong with Mr. Potter,” she said, confused. “He's just...asleep.”

Severus huffed, annoyed, and snapped out, “Then wake the little troublemaker up!”

Albus popped another lemon drop in his mouth and hummed again before he spoke up, interrupting what would undoubtedly become an argument, “I am afraid Severus that that is quite impossible.” Everyone turned to Albus, curious and in some ways absolutely furious.

“Explain then Headmaster,” Severus sneered. Filius frowned at Severus' tone but nodded.

“I am quite curious myself,” he said lightly. Pamona, Pomfrey, and Minerva all nodded in agreement.

“I spoke with Mr. Potter's relatives a while back when they grew concerned with the amount of sleep he had been suffering through,” Albus said lightly. “The muggles call it narcolepsy. It appears that perhaps young Mr. Potter's near brush with death has increased the size of his magical core exponentially, and this increase which steadily grows as he ages is the cause behind this. Mr. Potter is not the first Hogwarts student that needed accommodation for this exact problem, and I doubt he will be the last.”

Everyone stared at Albus like he had grown two heads. There was an unspoken question of 'who?' in their minds and Albus blinked, lightly.

“Albus...” Minerva said slowly. “What are you talking about? Isn't there a way to handle this?”

“Aside from accommodating Mr. Potter, no,” Albus concluded. “To do so risks damaging his core.”

Severus stared at Albus, uncomprehending for a moment. It was surprisingly Pamona who spoke up next.

“You are the student Hogwarts provided for this exact situation, weren't you Albus,” the portly witch said softly. Albus practically beamed at her.

“Why yes!” he said cheerfully. “And look how I turned out for it.”

The horror among the staff was near palpable. Albus did not notice except to grow rather stern and utter, “Do not try and 'fix' this for Mr. Potter. You will only damage him in the long run.” The coldness in his words halted any such thought, and everyone nodded. Albus clapped. “Good! Then Minerva, I do believe you have first years to attend to. Poppy and I will remain here until Mr. Potter awakens, which should be soon. Off you go.”

The heads of houses trailed out of the infirmary, more than a little unsure of what exactly transpired in there. Pomfrey fussed over Karkat for a moment longer until Albus hit her with a stunner.

“I do apologize, Poppy, but I fear the temptation would be too strong for you and the others,” Albus said sadly, “and I cannot have you impeding his development. Not if we want the chance....” He trailed off and sat down at Karkat's bedside. He stroked back a hit of the young trolls hair and smiled sadly. 

“Not if we want the chance,” he said again after a minute and closed his eyes.

* * *

 

Kankri—post-scratch Kankri—frowned as he fiddled with the innards of the husktop. The Dolorosa didn't understand exactly what he was doing, building it from scratch, but she respected his desires and helped him as much as she could. He withheld a curse when it sparked, and then smoked.

“I take it that wasn't the result you were looking for?” Dolorosa asked lightly, a small teasing smile at her lips. Kankri pouted just a bit.

“This would be so much faster if Mituna was doing it,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Mituna?” Dolorosa asked and Kankri flushed lightly. “Ah, someone from your dreams then.”

Kankri nodded slowly. “He was a yellowblood, and the most powerful psionic,” he said with a frown. “He saved us, when we didn't know there was danger.” There was silence, most from the Dolorosa as Kankri bowed his head. That statement wasn't quite true; another _had_ known that they were in danger.

God, he'd been such a fool then. He _knew_ that the danger was coming; he'd _known_ because it was there, singing in their blood—the truth of everything. He had known long before the others that their session was a failure. That they weren't _supposed_ to amount to anything because that was what fate had decided. Whenever they did amount to anything, it just petered out into a doomed timeline. They weren't supposed to win, they were supposed to create Alternia out of Beforus instead.

As he had known that, he too had known the danger that would befall them. He'd known, and at one point there was a moment where he could have acted and prevented it all. Perhaps in some doomed timeline he had been a bit braver and done just that, but in their time he hadn't. He was terrified, fearful—a coward. Mituna had to save them, and it broke Mituna. Kankri knew that it was in some ways his fault, and it tore at him just a bit.

He breathed out slowly and closed his eyes.

“Perhaps you will see this Mituna again, Kankri,” Dolorosa said softly. “You said it yourself to me once, son. This is our second chance.”

Kankri opened his eyes and smiled sadly. “Yeah.” It was their second chance, but they weren't meant to fulfill anything. Not this time; this time it was another's chance, and Kankri would be damned if he didn't do anything to help them. “Thanks.”

“Come,” Dolorosa said, “you need a break from that, and it is time we went out hunting anyway.”

Kankri stood up and moved to follow his mother outside the caves. He shot one last glance at the half-finished husktop and sighed. He really wished Mituna were here; he'd know what to do to make the damn thing work and _then_ everything would settle down and he'd be assured that they'd have a surviving chance. However Kankri doubted he'd ever meet the new Mituna—he doubted he'd ever meet anyone else aside from the Dolorosa.

He donned his cloak under his mother's eye and made sure it was secure and would keep him warm. Then he followed her out into the dusk-light. He breathed in the cool in air and smiled; it felt nice, being outside again. Kankri looked up at the stars; his heart raced. Suddenly he had a _good_ feeling.

_Later that night he met a young troll that would eventually mean more than the world to him; she would become his greatest Disciple, his lover, his sister, and his best friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, nevermind, no focus on Alternia. Alternia is boring. There's really nothing going on there right now, not until Karkat's older. So we get more Signless instead, and meddling Albus. Enjoy.
> 
> FOR KOURU-KAGE: I have contacted AO3 about your seeming inability to comment on my story anymore, as well as about an issue that it appears your comments have disappeared from my story (except they're still counted on the total which is odd) so hopefully this is just a bug and not someone being rude and, well, listing your comments on this story as spam. Cuz that's not cool.
> 
> IF ANYONE DID DO THAT -- you are a jerk. Shame on you. I will get this fixed, dammit.


	7. Chapter 7

His lusus was overprotective, and Karkat would often curse about the overprotectiveness fondly. At the age of a sweep and a half, where most Trolls would already be wandering about their hives and be schoolfed on history, Karkat was instead being constantly cuddled and coddled. His giant crustacean did not let him make his own food, or even enter the nutritionblock without being clasped in his claws. Most days they watched romcom's that were ordered from a mail-in order form since Karkat wasn't allowed a husktop just yet. The young Troll's lusus refused to let him even use the pencil to fill in his requests, or touch the paper unless it was to point out which movies to mark out for delivery.

It was annoying, frustrating, and a bit embarrassing truthfully but Karkat wouldn't have it any other way. He liked his lusus, he liked that overprotective nature. It said a lot to Karkat that he was _wanted_ and _desired_ in ways that nobody else would ever show him for sweeps. Plus Karkat knew, and understood, that his lusus was just fearful of anyone or anything uncovering the truth about his blood color. Until such a time as the young Troll was able to fully coordinate his body—he pupated a sweep ago, but physical movement was still a long way off from being natural in this new, two-legged state—anything and everything in the hive was a potential risk at revealing his mutant status.

That his lusus, his _dad_ in some respects, feared for his safety was a comfort that nothing would ever chance. So when he awoke with that odd dream rattling about in his think pan before it faded into obscurity, Karkat didn't fight much as his lusus carted him around the hive for the entire night. They watched romcom's, and in a safe environment Karkat practiced getting the hang of his awkward limbs. He got to play with his plastic threshecutioner sickles for a while until he had fully tired himself out by dawn.

Carefully the crustacean picked him up in its claws and carted him back to his respiteblock. Karkat was placed into his recuperacoon and relaxed into the sopor—he let the slime take him off into slumber, a small smile on his face.

When Karkat woke up it was to see the familiar nubby-horned face peering down at him from half-moon spectacles and smiling fondly.

“Welcome back,” Albus said softly and Karkat frowned. The young troll sat up and shoved Albus' hands away; he bit his lip in confusion.

“Where the fuck am I?” he asked. “My lusus just...”

“Ah, yes,” Albus chuckled lightly. “Give it some time, wriggler, and it will all make sense. Now, I do believe we have a feast to be getting to?”

Karkat looked up at Albus, completely confused. Hadn't he just been in his recuperacoon and tumbling off into sleep? Why was he here now? It made no sense whatsoever. Albus just smiled and offered a hand that Karkat grudgingly accepted. They walked passed a slumbering Pomfrey and out into the halls. Karkat ended up craning his neck to stare at everything with wide, shocked eyes. He even yelped when one of the paintings shouted a cheerful greeting.

Albus just chuckled and at his inquiring look replied, “This is all perfectly normal for Hogwarts.”

“This schoolfeeding place is fucking insane,” Karkat grumbled back.

Eventually they reached the entrance to the Great Hall and Albus looked down at Karkat. He had a fond smile on his face, even as he spoke.

“Now, Karkat, remember that here you will go by Harry Potter,” Albus said, kneeling down until they were eye-level. “Also remember that no matter how much you desire to use that horribly triggering language and those albiest slurs it is in your best interest not to.” Karkat glared and Albus sighed. “Keep it to a minimum.”

“Fine,” Karkat replied. He would only do so because the nubby-horned bastard was the only person here that he felt safe around entirely. Albus beamed, pleased.

“We might make you a fully functioning, prime example of society yet!” the elder said. Then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh dear.” He shook his head and stood. With a careful push of the doors, which were towering and tall to the point that Karkat was certain they were larger than the tallest highblood.

Inside there was a little chattering. Kids were lined up—not many left really just a handful—and waiting for a strict woman to call out their names. They placed on a hat, which took a varying amount of time to shout out something. When the doors opened the entirely hall went dead silent. Albus led Karkat to the end of the line and patted his head. Whispers rose up and broke out as Albus walked away from the line of First Years and sat down at the Head Table.

“Do continue, Professor McGonagall,” Albus said lightly. Minerva cleared her throat and pulled up her list again.

“Potter, Harry,” she called out, and then grimaced. What utterly perfect timing.

Karkat slipped out of line and the whispers became a rising torrent. He didn't know what he was doing, really, except that Minerva motioned for him to come forward so he did.

“This is the sorting ceremony, Mr. Potter,” Minerva said softly. “Sit on the stool and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head. You will be sorted into your house momentarily.”

Karkat looked up at her warily, and just nodded once in response. He sat down on the stool and Minerva dropped the hat onto his head. It went down past his nose. Karkat tilted his head slightly and peered through the fabric of the hat. Was it supposed to do something? Why was it not shouting out a name?

“ _I apologize I am in a bit of pain, mostly because your thoughts are so loud that I have a headache I never knew I could get, wriggler.”_ The voice wasn't said, and Karkat's gaze went wide. He didn't so much as think his words, as he actually screamed them out of his mouth.

“WHAT THE EVER PITYING FUCK?!” Karkat leaped from the chair and tugged the hat off his head. He stared at the thing in abject horror. For the moment he'd completely forgotten the terror that beguiled his mind and helped keep him silent, for the moment he'd completely forgotten where he was.

Albus had to resist the urge to place his palm to his forehead. He was of higher standards than a simple facepalm, or even a facepalm combo. He did not have a _need_ to debase himself in such a manner. Minerva, standing next to Karkat who had begun to rant quite viciously about the invasion of his privacy while the hat shot back slightly condescending comments about the horrible cacophony of noise in Karkat's head, was having a mini heartattack. She dropped into a dead faint a second later.

Albus could no longer resist the urge to bury his face in his hands, and thus smacked both palms to his face and lowered his head. Honestly, he should have expected this outcome. Karkat was an uneducated wriggler that had no knowledge of how proper society should be. Let alone of how triggering his own words could be or even that, perhaps, he should watch himself for the sake of others. Karkat would not understand or know about this for quite some time, which Albus was well aware of.

Then there was the fact of how, exactly, the hat itself tended to react to certain stimulus. Albus had tried hard over the years as Headmaster to correct this awkward behavior to little success. Why he could even remember his own sorting, which had ended in a monologue until the hat had shouted “RAVENCLAW” just to shut him up. It was rather rude, Albus had thought then and still thought now.

As Albus stood to head down to the hat and Karkat, who were both cursing one another out in a very, very disturbingly black manner, Pamona and Filius raced down to check on Minerva. Albus himself came to a halt before Karkat and the hat. He opened his mouth and tried to put as much authority as he could into his words to be heard over the screeching of the young troll and magically gifted piece of clothing.

“I would ask that you please state trigger warnings--” Albus started, and the hat rounded on him in a quick break.

“Oh don't you start as well!” it roared, and Karkat quickly interjected with, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean you poor excuse for a head warming device?!”

Filius and Pamona were able to get Minerva roused just as the two way argument became a three way argument with Albus starting off on a rather long monologue and looking younger by the minute. His gaze was disdainful, just a bit, but he had a flash of youth about him that none of the teachers had seen in quite some time.

Once Minerva was helped to her feet, with Filius and Pamona making sure she was okay, the elder witch raised her wand and let off a horrible _bang!_

The hat, Karkat, and Albus shut up. Albus turned to open his mouth when Minerva beat him to it.

“Quiet!” she almost rasped. “Albus go sit back at the head table and keep your mouth shut. Mr. Potter, I will be extracting points from your house for such horrible language. Keep your tongue in your head and those words out of your sentences! And _Hat_...sort the bloody boy already!”

Minerva's words rang. The Great Hall, which had previously been curious whispers, was dead silent. Albus straightened himself up and marched right back to the head table with his head held high. He sat down, and almost instantly blinked and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache. He sagged, and looked just a bit older and a bit sheepish.

Karkat had the decent sense to look rather contrite for the telling off he'd gotten. He bowed his head, clenched his fists, and grit his teeth. The young troll said not a word aside from a sharp nod. He finally remembered just where he was, and the terror of a culling came back in full force. Karkat knew, logically, that getting worked up could easily show his blood color. He was close to revealing just how much of a mutant he _was_. So he kept quiet and worked on removing his inner turmoil.

The hat itself huffed and grumbled, “I refuse to sit on his head a moment longer. I shall have to sort him this way.” It mulled over what little it was able to glean from Karkat's mind before the headache that it never knew it could have blossomed into existence. “He's got a loyal streak a mile wide, quite a bit of fear but that's mostly from misscommunication. Certainly more curious than any little brat I've ever met, with a great deal of caution. Sneaky as hell too if he wanted to be, good ambition there if a bit of a fanciful imagination. Brave too.” It delved off into mumbles to itself, so quiet nobody could hear. A few words could be made out, but they didn't make much sense.

“Signless-child” “Knight of Blood” “leader” “moirail” “Gamzee” and “foolish” were among the few that loud enough to be picked up. After a minute longer debate to itself the hat seemed to nod.

“For being an ignorant little shit, with a giant complex that wishes to help as many people as he wants, and having a fools dream it had better be _GRYFFINDOR_. Good luck you little stain on existence.”

The Great Hall was still dead silent. Never, in all the years at Hogwarts, had the Sorting Hat spoken in such a manner. It was unprecedented and completely unexpected. That last statement rang in everyone's ears for a minute longer. Karkat looked utterly confused as to what he was supposed to do next while the entire Great Hall, aside from Albus who had his face buried in his hands again, stared in silent shock.

Finally the Gryffindor table began to clap, hesitant at first, but then it got louder and louder until the Weasley Twins were crowing, “WE GOT POTTER, WE GOT POTTER,” and Karkat shuffled over to the table making the loudest noise. 

This schoolfeeding place was just _weird_.

* * *

 

_In the distant future inside a Dream Bubble_

Karkat sighed as he stared at the near prefect representation of the Great Hall. He wasn't sure if this was made from his memories, or from the _other_ but it didn't quite matter. Just standing here tended to bring it all back. After that first initial sorting into the house of red and gold, foolishly brave, idiotic _lions_ which perhaps was a bit fitting in some ironic way considering all that he'd learned about the Signless in these dream bubbles and Aranea Serket's nonstop story telling, Karkat eventually grew to not be so terrified of culling-bright red. In fact he gained some awkward sort of pride in the colors, red and gold, to the point that his customary anonymous grey was sometimes painful to stare at.

Karkat sighed again and ran his hands through his hair. Not that any of this mattered in the end; it was nothing more than a dream. A fools chance at an escape; he'd learned that later on.

“Still some of the best sweeps of my life,” the troll said, gazing at the lion— _why did that have to remind him so much of Nepeta?—_ and at the bright cull-worthy colors that made up Gryffindor house.

Behind him there was a slightly hesitant, slightly arrogant, “You really think so?” and Karkat felt his eye twitch.

_Kankri Vantas_ , that nubby-horned bastard. He turned around and yes, there was the bright candy-red sweater and blank, white eyes that stared at him with a sort of pleased smile to his lips. Karkat couldn't hold back the upcurl to his lips when Kankri opened his mouth to talk. Instead he took one of his curled fists and punched the older, dead troll right in the kisser.

“That's for being a douchenozzle with no respect to your goddamned _class_ you fuckass!” Karkat practically screeched and then tore off before Kankri could even speak.

Alone in the memory of the Great Hall Kankri blinked and felt his face. “What a horrible thing to say. Perhaps he needs to hear another sermon about his word choice and how they could very well be triggering to others. Such rude slurs...at the very least he could have warned about them.”

His lips stung, and Kankri felt around the outside of his mouth and then inspected the inside. When he brought his hands back up there was the slight glistening of candy red.

“Hm, I wonder what I did to make him so upset at me,” Kankri mused after a minute as he thought his form into something undamaged. “Really, he could have just told me if something I said was triggering in some manner. At least then I'd know to warn about it.”

With a shake of his head Kankri gazed back at the Great Hall one last time, a slight fond smile crossing his lips, before he wandered off to find Karkat again. He had a sermon to preach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KOURU-KAGE: It turns out somehow your comments got marked a spam. Hopefully you can comment on this story now; if not AO3 recommends you use a different e-mail address due to how finicky their system can be.
> 
> NORMAL NOTES:
> 
> Yeah, we time jumped a bit. Heheh, I couldn't help myself. Karkat REALLY wanted to punch Kankri for being an idiot, so he punched Kankri. Just a mild diversion, nothing more. Take what you will out of it.
> 
> But oh gods, Kankri, he just kind of took over towards the end of the chapter there when Karkat and the Hat didn't get along. I just...yeah. That became a clusterfuck rather quickly. I just...I have no words for what happened. I really don't.


	8. Chapter 8

For the first time since he could remember, Karkat felt off. It wasn't off in the sense of illness, but more of a bone deep tiredness that wrapped around his bloodpusher and _squeezed._ He didn't know what this 'off' feeling was, except that he was sure it wasn't normal, and he didn't know what to do to make it stop. So Karkat just floundered on.

When dawn approached, Karkat was awake. For a brief moment terror took him as it always did; _the sun was up oh god what was he doing awake when the blistering sun was scorching the earth?_ Then he remembered that this was the awkward place with the hornless, pink not-trolls where the sun didn't _burn_. That reminder, of course, soothed his pan enough that he was able to crawl out of his weird alien recuperacoon that was more like a slab of wood combined with a fluffy items pile than an actual 'coon.

Karkat sleepily looked around his respiteblock and remembered that he _shared_ it with four other wrigglers. He breathed out a sigh; he hadn't woken them as he slept then. Which meant the faded daymare— _nightmare_ was what they called them here—he most likely had, as any troll with sopor most likely had, hadn't been too horrific this time around. Karkat counted that as a slight bonus; waking up his fellow wrigglers with insane screaming probably would not be the best start to the sweeps of shared respiteblock-hood.

He rubbed at his eyes, they were bleary from sleep, and wandered off to the ablutionblock. Inside was the typical hand ablution device only multiplied by five, and several load gapers shoved into stalls. There were also several ablution traps settled along the far wall. They weren't the normal type of ablution trap, but instead a fancier standing ablution trap. Kakart eyed it warily; living in Petunia's hive had gotten him used to the combination of the two different types of ablution traps, but he'd never used a standing one before.

Plus, Karkat just _knew_ , it would be full of water and not slime. Water was great, sure, for washing away surface dirt, but slime was better for the skin overall. He grumbled to himself, stripped down, and decided to get clean.

It was a while before anyone else awakened from their sleep; by that time Karkat was finished, dressed, and sitting on his recuperacoon— _no, pile fit it better—_ and looking at one of the textbooks with a frown on his face. A sandy-haired, slightly round wriggler was next to awaken as Karkat tilted the book at an awkward angle in an attempt to understand it.

“Um, I don't think...reading it sideways...will help,” the other boy said hesitantly.

Karkat raised his gaze, “But it makes no fucking sense!”

The other boy winced, but smiled weakly, “Well perhaps we'll have that class today?”

Karkat just huffed and snapped the book shut. “Fuck it. It was just a way to pass time until the rest of you nookstains woke up.” He glared at the book, which had been about History.

The boy didn't wince so much as look greatly confused as he said, “Okay?” Next to him the wriggler with the odd accent woke up.

“Where's'a fire?” he asked, and rubbed at his eyes.

“There's no fire Seamus,” the first wriggler replied quietly as he stood up and gathered his items for the ablutionblock.

That seemed to cause the cascade for everyone else, aside from Ron, to wake up. Karkat watched them all from the safety of his pile-'coon as, one by one, the boys trudged into the ablutionblock. He looked to Ron, who still snored away in the arms of sleep. Once the others came back to the respiteblock, the noise level rose steadily. It was only as everyone gathered their books and bags that Ron woke up.

“Whassitnoise?” the red head mumbled; he was still in such a state that despite how he looked around the room, he didn't see anything.

“Everyone's up, dumbass,” Karkat replied. Seamus and the dark skinned wriggler were talking to one another in rather hushed tones as the blond haired wriggler finished gathering up all his schoolfeeding supplies. Karkat's own where piled at the foot of his pile-'coon-thing. “We're gonna go to the nutriblock.”

“Food...” Ron groaned, and dragged himself out of bed.

Seamus yelped, “He's a zombie!” and there was laughter. Karkat didn't understand the significance of the comment and just scowled.

As Ron trudged out of the respiteblock, the blond glanced around the room and spoke, hesitantly, “Uhm...guys? I think we share classes...right? So...can't we just carry around one book each?” 

Seamus and Dean in the corner quieted for a moment and then grinned. Together they said, “Good idea, Neville!”

* * *

 

The first day of schoolfeeding was boring as _fuck_. Karkat didn't understand why he needed to learn all this voodoo stuff, but the nubby-horned bastard said it would help him later in life back when they were shopping for supplies. He _supposed_ since the fucker was obviously old enough to no longer be a pupathat he knew what he was talking about.

Not that Karkat cared or anything about his opinion.

So Transfiguration passed slowly and Karkat didn't understand half of what the teacher tried to tell them but he attempted the spell assigned anyway. It didn't work, and a bushy haired, pan-infested, _queen of all schoolfeeding fuck_ , went on and figured it out first. She then proceeded to practically brag about it for the remainder of the class by attempting to show him, Neville and Ron how to work it right.

She made no sense either. Karkat squashed down the feeling of utter _hatred_ just barely. He was not old enough to be Quadrant hunting. Even if he found his first black crush, they were only a sweep old. Besides, Ron seemed to be of the same mindset. Perhaps he felt more of a platonic hatred then.

From there on the days just seemed to blur together. Charms, like Transfiguration, made no sense. Potions Karkat didn't even want to _contemplate._ That class was completely filled with black advances that, really, he wanted to scream rape, grubphilia, and his desire for nubby-horns to keep him safe and protected. Karkat would never admit, out loud, that he had ever thought of the nubby-horned fuckass in the regard of a respectable adult ever. Or that he wished the bastard would keep him safe. 

Something unholy inside himself just screamed at the idea, actually. Karkat wasn't sure why.

In fact the only class that Karkat really even liked was Astronomy. For some reason the make-up of the stars, completely unfamiliar to the ones he was certain he'd seen once or twice when his lusus was distracted, fascinated him. Karkat could already pick out a few of the various caste signs from Alternia, even his included in the list. Twelve signs in total, that made up twelve very popular constellations. This knowledge, these _stars_ , actually woke up Karkat's pan and made it think.

He wanted to know _why_ they were there, and why these people followed them almost religiously.

Then, of course, there came the first flying lesson and all of Karkat's slowly building anger bubbled over like a furious subbjugulator denied his kill. Really.

* * *

 

The flying lesson was, honestly, rather boring at first like everything else. Mostly because Karkat didn't understand the need for it. Especially once he realized how backwards this entire schoolfeeding place was. They weren't going to teach anyone to be Flightreceptors, and there while Karkat could see plenty of what he guessed where psionic wrigglers, there was no _need_ to make the entire class learn to be Helmsmen, unless the non-psionics were to be pilots instead.

No, instead it was to teach wrigglers how to fly brooms. Karkat naturally was wary—it was like _asking_ for someone to fall, get hurt, and then get culled. He didn't want to be in the air, zooming around; he didn't like the _risk._ Still, unlike the other terrified wrigglers—the bushy one with knowledge, Neville, and a couple of wrigglers he hadn't bothere to talk with yet—Karkat put on a brave front and did as the Professor instructed.

Karkat held his hand over the prone broom on the ground and said, “UP!” in his most commanding and leaderly voice. The broom leaped into his waiting hand. Some rolled over lazily, some jerked, and then floated up slowly, and others responded with a readiness similar to Karkat's. The young troll peered at the broom, slightly baffled.

_How did it do that?_

The Professor proceeded to command them to sit astride the broom, and float a few inches off the ground upon her command. Karkat forced back the shaking of his hands, sat astride the broom— _this is a danger waiting to happen—_ and kicked off into the air. Beside him the other students followed suit, except Neville who jerked upward and didn't stop. Karkat watched with wide eyes as Neville's broom tilted back until the wriggler slipped off it entirely and went falling towards the ground.

Internally Karkat called foul play; some psionic in the class fucked with the kids flying device. That _had_ to be it. Karkat couldn't believe that the kid himself tilted the broom at such an angle that he'd fall to the ground. Especially not when he appeared absolutely terrified of the damn thing.

The Professor instantly leaped to Neville's side, hummed, declared his wrist broken and said she'd take him to Madam Pomfrey. Karkat winced and hoped Neville wasn't going to be culled. She left with a final command for them to stay on the ground.

Of course then Draco had to stand up with a shiny little orb. Karkat remembered Neville got it this morning; it would glow red or something for a memory forgotten. It seemed useless.

“Look what Longbottom's lost!” Draco laughed. “Should I leave it for him somewhere? Perhaps in a tree?”

Karkat scowled, crossed his arms, and said pointedly, “So now you're waxing black for Neville? Are you like some fucking retard or something? We're just wriggler's numb-bulge.”

Draco scowled, “Excuse me? Have something to say Potty?”

Karkat laughed derisively, “Potty? Wow, you _are_ fucking retard. I've heard better insults from a barkbeast.”

Draco mounted his broom with flare, blatantly disregarding the teacher. Karkat scowled again and clenched his fists.

“Oh poor Potty, afraid to fly?” Draco asked. “Why don't you come up here and get your little _boyfriends_ toy back.”

“God, your insults are fucking _weak_ , nookstain,” Karkat rolled his eyes. “I'd wipe the floor with you.”

It took about a minute before Draco realized that, honestly, nothing he said was having an effect on Karkat like he wanted. So instead he tossed the remembrall away, and dove right at Karkat's head. He'd _get_ the reaction he wanted if it took impaling the brat on his broom!

Karkat dodged out of the way clumsily and cursed, “What are you doing fuckass? Trying to get us culled?”

“Oooh, look, I'm a poor little baby chicken,” Draco laughed. Karkat snarled and clenched his fists.

“I'm not a cluckbeast!”

“You're afraid of a broom!” Draco replied, and zipped close by Karkat again who dodged out of the way, tripping over his feet as he did so. “Look, your little baby hands are shaking!”

“Shut up grubstain!” Karkat snapped back.

“Make me!” Draco replied. Draco's next pass, Karkat jumped onto the broom with the blond. He gripped at the school robes and began tugging. In hindsight Karkat realized this was probably not a good idea. The broom swerved.

“Let go!” Draco cried out and struggled against Karkat's grip.

“You look go nubslurper!” Karkat replied in kind as his claws got caught in the delicate frabric of Draco's robes. “Watch where you're fucking driving this thing!” was shouted next as they barely dodged a tree.

Eventually, due to all the struggling and fighting and clawing on the broom, Draco and Karkat crashed. Minerva stood in the field, foot tapping, as both boys pulled themselves apart next to the ruined broom. 

Draco and Karkat's gaze followed up the tapping foot, all the way to her pressed lips and stern gaze. 

Perhaps, next time, he shouldn't get himself wrapped up in black advances, Karkat amended.

* * *

 

terminallyCapricious [TC] began trolling madVisionary [MV]  
TC: when are you motherfucking gonna get here  
TC: THERE AIN'T MUCH I CAN BE DOING UNTIL YOU DO MOTHER FUCKER  
MV: Oh it will be a while yet for me sorry  
TC: :o( why  
TC: HAVEN'T I BEEN FUCKING WAITING LONG ENOUGH BITCH  
MV: I meant it will be a while for me specifically For you i should be there soon i think  
TC: oh  
TC: THERE IS SOME MOTHERFUCKING TIME BULL SHIT GOIN ON  
TC: ain't there :o)  
MV: Yeah For me i havent met anyone yet  
MV: But you had the chance to say hello and get sober and start everything off  
MV: I cant wait until i get to help out Cuz we will have so much fun once we get to the same place  
TC: i hear you sister  
TC: I MOTHERFUCKING HEAR YOU WICKED SISTER  
TC: ain't no need to preach that to me  
TC: HONK  
MV: You have been making sure everything will be smooth for our arrival though right  
MV: Its all supposed to be a surprise you know We cant have anyone aware weve showed up until the right moment  
MV: Otherwise everything might go horribly wrong And then id be stuck listening to everyone whine  
MV: And then everyone will get worried because ill start getting angry And nobody likes me angry  
TC: i thought you ain't gotten to see anybody yet sister  
TC: OR HAVE YOU BEEN FUCKING LYING TO ME ABOUT THAT MOTHER FUCKER  
TC: :o(  
MV: No i havent been lying Promise  
MV: Maybe i should have said nobody will like me angry  
MV: Especially since it only is supposed to happen after hes gone already  
TC: better  
TC: MOTHERFUCKING MUCH BETTER  
TC: and yeah you should have  
TC: HONK  
TC: :o)  
MV: You know it kind of sucks  
MV: I mean i already know how everything is going to go  
MV: Or how the most important bits are supposed to go i guess since i cant know everything yet  
MV: Yet i havent even met anyone even though i feel like i know them all so well already  
MV: But i still miss them despite their not gone yet  
MV: Do you think it will get better when im older  
MV: Or does the knowing only get worse  
TC: you'd have to ask a seer for that  
TC: I'M JUST A LOWLY FUCKING BARD MY MOST WICKEDEST OF MOTHERFUCKING SISTERS  
TC: honk  
MV: But they wont know me until im there  
MV: How could i ask them now  
MV: When all i am is an unknown  
TC: dunno  
TC: JUST MOTHER FUCKING ASK I GUESS  
TC: :o(  
MV: Okay i will then  
MV: If you think it will work  
MV: 8?  
TC: i'll be right here when you come back  
TC: IT AIN'T LIKE ITS GONNA FUCKING HURT NONE  
TC: so go ask one of them motherfuckers and see  
MV: Okay

madVisionary [MV] began trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]  
MV: Does the knowing get any better when you get older  
GC: WH4T? WHO 1S TH1S? HOW D1D YOU G3T TH1S H4NDL3?  
MV: I just wanted to know if it got better You know  
MV: The knowing what will happen  
GC: LOOK L1TTL3 L3MON L1M3 1 DONT KNOW HOW YOU GOT TH1S H4NDL3  
GC: OR 3V3N HOW YOU C4N CONT4CT M3  
GC: 3SP3C14LLY S1NC3 4NYON3 WHO 3V3R COULD 1S D34D OR W1TH1N W4LK1NG D1ST4NC3 OF M3 R1GHT NOW  
GC: 4ND 1 DONT KNOW 4 M4DV1S1ON4RY 4NYW4Y  
GC: BUT 1F YOU DONT 4NSW3R MY QU3ST1ONS SOON TH3N 1 4M 4FR41D 1 W1LL H4V3 TO CH4RG3 YOU W1TH UNL4WFUL SOL1C1T4T1ON OF 4 L3G1SL4C3R4TOR  
MV: Thats mean  
MV: I just asked you a question  
GC: WH4T S1Z3 1S YOUR N3CK?  
MV: Why  
GC: 1 L1KE TO KNOW HOW B1G TO M4K3 MY NOOSE >:]  
MV:....  
GC: W3LL? 1M W41T1NG FOR 4N 4NSW3R H3R3 L1TTL3 L3MON L1M3  
MV: look i wasnt doing anything to you  
MV: but then you went and threatened me little miss pyrope and that just doesnt fucking fly bitch  
MV: especially since i already have some hard fucking feelings for you  
MV: after you break his little heart and stomp on it by being the tealblooded whore that you are  
MV: when he did nothing except want you in all the ways that matter  
MV: when he did nothing except be there for you  
MV: all i came here was to ask if you if the knowing what fucking happens  
MV: to me and my friends and the universe  
MV: all the deaths and the pain  
MV: all the hurt that everyone feels  
MV: i just wanted to know if it ever gets fucking better when you get older  
MV: or if it stays the same  
MV: or gets worse  
MV: but i guess a little upstart seer of mind like you  
MV: who never had the guts to slice her own neck with her sword and become more than just the pathetic ball of suck that you are  
MV: who never bothered to really train herself to see the fucking truth for what it is  
MV: was not the seer i should have asked  
MV: ill leave your punishment for pissing me the fuck off to my brother from another universal plane  
MV: since he likes getting all up in your nook  
MV: although i cant see why your such a horrid bitch  
MV: forget i ever asked you anything  
madVisionary [MV] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]  
GC: WH4T

MV: i asked your kismesis and she fucking threatened me  
MV: realized that the whore wasnt worth asking in the first place  
MV: especially considering what a fucked up coward she was  
MV: since she ran from him once she realized just what he wanted  
MV: torrid little bitch  
TC: calm down sister  
TC: CALM THE MOTHER FUCK DOWN WICKED SISTER  
TC: i ain't gonna have you talking that way about my kismesis-sister  
TC: NOT WHEN I CAN FUCKING STOP IT RIGHT HERE RIGHT MOTHER FUCKING NOW  
TC: honk  
TC: HONK  
TC: honk  
TC: HONK  
MV: i get it quit your fucking honking you rot for a pan  
MV: gog you cant take a little platonic hate towards your quadrant  
MV: especially after what she did  
TC: my brother ain't needing anymore hate  
TC: ESPECIALLY NOT TOWARDS THE FUCKING WHORE THAT I HAPPEN TO SHARE A MOTHER FUCKING QUADRANT WITH  
TC: especially when hes still got his motherfucking emotions all up in her nook  
TC: WHEN SHE DOESN'T MOTEHRFUCKING REALIZE WHAT A GOOD FUCKING THING MY PUNCH BLOODED BROTHER IS  
MV: fine  
MV: ill lay off her  
MV: but this is fucking useless you know that  
MV: if i try to talk to the only other seer  
MV: shell figure it all out before its time  
MV: that tealblooded whore was the only chance at an answer  
TC: then i guess you should wait until your older  
TC: I GUESS YOU SHOULD WAIT UNTIL YOU GOT YOUR OWN MOTHERFUCKING UNDER STANDING ON ONCE YOU'VE GROWN UP A BIT  
TC: don't you  
MV: yeah fine whatever  
MV: i need to go kill something  
MV: fuck will i feel happier once ive got that bastard palemate of mine  
MV: make sure everythings fucking ready for our arrival  
MV: and keep that fucker kurloz in line  
MV: we cant have him fucking everything up  
TC: i know sister  
TC: BELIEVE ME I MOTHER FUCKING KNOW  
MV: see you soon gamzee  
MV: you know the me thats on her way and all  
MV: not this me thats right here  
MV: thatd just be fucking stupid  
TC: see you soon wicked sister  
TC: SEE YOU MOTHERFUCKING SOON  
terminallyCapricious [TC]ceased trolling madVisionary [MV]

Gamzee closed his husktop and breathed in slowly. He let smile cross his face. It wouldn't be long before it was time for the real miracles to begin. His eyes shifted towards Cal and his smile turned practically vicious.

Soon all the puppets will be lined up in a row. Won't it just be _beautiful_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We actually had some Gamzee time here, and he's chitchatting with someone special. I wonder who that is? Oh well, you'll all find out soon enough. Hope you enjoyed reading this writersblock chapter of mine. I didn't start having a flow of ideas until the very end there (and the very start).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out [Potterstuck](http://fuckyeahpotterstuck.tumblr.com) on Tumblr (fuckyeahpotterstuck) which grew out of this story here!

Karkat and Draco, after the broom incident, were given a week long dose of detention. They broke school rules. Up in his high and lofty tower Dumbledore smiled, slightly. He tapped out a simple sentence onto a set of keys.

CG: N9t quite as planned.   
MV: Should i feel sorry for the gryffindors then   
MV: Since they didnt get that awesome seeker they need   
CG: Very funny. 

From there, though, grew a friendship with Neville. Before that Karkat only ever considered Ron his friend, but in the aftermath of defending Neville from Daco's bullying he gained yet another ally. From then on they became known as the Gryffindor trio.

Karkat's life at Hogwarts quickly settled into routine. He'd go about his day to day life, generally quite and not that outspoken amongst his peer group except when Draco or his dorm-mates where involved, as they saw a very different side of the young troll. Most of the school saw a meek, unsavior like kid—his dorm-mates, Draco, and a few of the other Gryffindor yearmates saw the little growing spitfire beneath.

Sadly Karkat's curses weren't quite up to scruff with his future self, but then again he thankfully wouldn't fall into that strangely self-depreciating hate-self rut for a good few sweeps to come. Heck, even at this stage in his life the _thought_ that he could hatemarry himself was nonexistent and so Karkat didn't even have the mindset of “his past self is such a douchenozzle” just yet.

Aside from appearing meek, quiet, and practically nonexistent to the rest of the school, Karkat somehow obtained the most detentions possible, surpassing even his supposed father James Potter's best kept record. This was more the fault of Severus Snape and his many forceful, awkward, and terrifying black advances. They were so distressing to Karkat that he finally ran to Dumbledore to beg for an intervention. It didn't work.

The absence of Karkat's lusus had never been felt more keenly than when in the Potions classroom.

So Karkat moved day, after day, until Halloween finally took a step up and nudged Karkat in the bonebulge. It was as if someone attempting to meddle in his life got tired of Karkat being meek and terrified and choose to _make_ him do something.

_ CURRENT madVisionary [CMV] RIGHT NOW opened memo SUPER SPECIAL AWESOME FRIENDS _

_ CMV: Was it just me or did a terrified shiver just run down our collective spines _  
_ CURRENT considerateGregariousness [CCG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo._  
 _ CCG: Can y9u please change the name 9f this mem9 9r at least list the p9ssi6le triggers 6ef9re its name? We are neither super, and while each pers9n is special in their 9wn way, unless y9u meant that as a n9d t9 my 6l99d c9l9r and TC's previ9us disp9siti9n as a s9p9r addict and y9ur frightening predelicti9n t9wards, shall we say, interesting h966ies,_  
 _ CCG: 9f which I d9n't have a pr96lem with let me assure y9u. What y9u d9 in y9ur spare time is s9lely y9ur 9wn ch9ice. Why I like t9 l99k at current issues and draft 9ut m9n9l9gues and serm9ns a69ut p9tentially trigger t9pics 9f c9nversati9n—t9 raise awareness 9f the su6jects 9f c9urse, just s9 we are clear._  
 _ CCG: I mean, after all, last time I 6r9ught up the su6ject 9f y9ur 9ccassi9nally distressing acti9ns y9u started spewing 9ut a6liest slurs and p9tentially triggering phrases—n9t t9 say that y9u actually triggered me,_  
 _ CCG: especially if y9u find triggering an9ther pers9n triggering, which I c9uld t9tally understand if y9u d9._  
 _? terminallyCapricious [?TC] AT ?:?? responded to memo._  
 _?TC: motherfucker_  
 _ CCG: I dislike triggering s9me9ne myself even th9ugh I am fully aware that s9me 9f my t9pics 9f c9nversati9n can be triggering—why I've had P9rrim say that my ch9ice in light reading material was triggering t9 her 6ut I think she was trying t9 make a j9ke there and a rather p99r 9ne at that._  
 _?TC: SHUT THE MOTHERFUCK UP_  
 _ CCG: Ah perhaps y9u sh9uld add that t9 the list 9f p9ssi6le triggers t9_  
 _ CCG: I'm s9rry what?_  
 _?TC: i said_  
 _?TC: SHUT THE MOTHERFUCK UP MOTHER FUCKER_  
 _?TC: my wicked sister was trying to say something before you spewed red all over this memo_  
 _?TC: LIKE SOME INCONSIDERATE MIRACLE THAT WAS NEITHER WANTED_  
 _?TC: nor needed_  
 _?TC: :o)_  
 _ CMV: Thanks  
CMV: Seriously kankri your a bit much sometimes Like all that stuff there_  
 _ CMV: Kankrichat_  
 _ CMV: Without mind to us_  
 _ CMV: 8(_  
 _ CMV: So back on topic again did you guys feel that somewhat ominous shiver down your spines too_  
 _ CMV: Like a shiver that meant someone got a bit too self aware You know of our hard work and stuff_  
 _ CMV: Or was that just a seer thing_  
 _ CCG: I d9n't kn9w it c9uld have 6een just a Seer thing as I felt it t99. I had merely equated the feeling t9 P9rrim preparing an9ther argument a69ut her a6s9lutely ridicul9us claim that w9men face 9ppressi9n by men 9n 6ef9rus citing her previ9us 9ccupati9n with the M9thergru6 as pr99f._  
 _ CCG: F9r s9me reas9n P9rrim has this idea that if she argues this 96vi9usly invalid p9int with me en9ugh that I will c9me t9 6elieve it is true._  
 _ CMV: Nice to know kankri can we get back on topic now_  
 _ CMV: Please_  
 _ CMV: I don't want more kankrichat_  
 _ CCG: 9f c9urse I ap9l9gize f9r taking up the mem9 again._  
 _?TC: i motherfucking felt that shiver too_  
 _?TC: SO THAT MEANS IT CAN'T BE A MOTHER FUCKING SEER THING RIGHT?_  
 _?TC: since i ain't no seer but a bard_  
 _ CCG: Alth9ugh w9uld y9u c9nsider_  
 _ CCG: 9h. Well this p9ses an interesting phen9men9n._  
 _?TC: I know brother its like some miraculous shit just went down in our three pans all consecutive-like_  
 _?TC: AND AIN'T IT JUST MOTHER FUCKING GOLORIOUS_  
 _?TC: honk_  
 _ CMV: Right_  
 _ CMV: You know what it was probably nothing So why don't we just get back to what we were all doing until the next meeting_  
 _ CMV: Kankri can go back to being whatever he is_  
 _ CCG: I will have y9u kn9w that I find that phrasing terribly insulting and p9tentially triggering._  
 _ CMV: And gamzee can go back to making sure stuff goes as planned on his end_  
 _ CMV: While i will sit here at home and wait for another year in boredom_  
 _ CCG: 9n sec9nd th9ught, I d9n't find y9ur previ9us phrasing all that triggering after all._  
 _ CMV: Good boy_  
 _ CCG: (she's rather terrifying with9ut trying s9metimes isn't she?)_  
 _?TC: (holy motherfuck yes)_  
 _ CMV: I can still read your chat you know_  
 _ CCG: I_  
 _ CMV banned CCG from responding to memo._  
 _?TC: motherfucker_  
 _CMV   banned ?TC from responding to memo._  
 ___ CMV: No Dont even try to explain yourselves_  
 _ CMV: It will take too long and youve got work to do _  
_ CMV: So go _  
_ CMV: My little playthings _  
_ CMV: >8) _

_ CMV closed memo. _

That something, of course, involved Halloween. The holiday Karkat didn't understand the meaning of, even though his roommates spoke of All Hallows Eve, Samhain, and something about candy. To be perfectly honest the whole thing reminded Karkat of the Alternian holiday Cullbright or All Gallows Eve which he only knew of from a romcom. The holiday itself in modern society had been obsolete and ignored for over two hundred sweeps, right after the Mass Exodus, in fact.

It also happened to be a lowbloods worst nightmare, especially one that was off the hemospectrum. Naturally Karkat treated the upcoming Halloween and his dorm-mates joy for it with fresh skepticism and a keen sense of wariness. Not even the smiling, cheerful visage of the nubby-horned bastard could quell the niggling fear in the back of Karkat's pan.

Karkat felt fully ready to remain hidden up in the dorms during Halloween, and the subsequent feast, and he'd grown silent over the past few days. It didn't help that he hadn't seen his lusus since the start of this whole backwards schoolfeeding place and, for a while, Karkat grew terrified that he would never see his lusus again. So he curled up in a pile of sheets and pillows and burried his head into his knees and arms.

That was how Ron, Neville, and the other boys of the Gryffindor first year dorm found him. Seamus and Dean hung back as Ron climbed up on the bed with Neville. Neither of the boys found the pile odd; they'd had over a month to get used to Karkat's many little quirks and the pile was one of the easiest by far.

“Harry?” Ron asked. “Mate, its Halloween. The feast is in an hour.”

Karkat shuddered lightly, but did not move from his position. Ron frowned, and then exchanged a glance to Neville followed by an almost subtle nod. Neville sucked in a steadying breath.

“H-Harry...” Neville started hesitantly, “I don't like halloween either.”

Karkat stiffened, slightly, and peeked on eye out between the gaps of his arms. Slightly bolstered by the response Neville continued with a bit more confidence.

“See, w-when I was a baby my...mum and dad were...hurt, shortly after this time,” Neville breathed out slowly.

“You don't have custodians?” Karkat asked, although it was a bit muffled. He didn't really have custodians here either; his lusus wasn't here and he missed the crab.

“Just my Gran,” Neville said with a quick shake of his head. “And...they were hurt cuz...V-Vol—he-who-must-not-be-named was defeated on Halloween. Like your mum a-and dad.”

Karkat actually did perk up at that, just a bit. He'd actually had custodians here? Like his lusus? For a minute Karkat processed that, and then squashed the thought. No, the persona that the nubby-horned bastard had protecting him had custodians, not Karkat. Almost petulantly Karkat grumbled about his lusus, not noticing the other boys' confusion at the term.

“Point is,” Ron continued, taking the grumbling as a good sign, “Halloween is a celebration now, and...it might suck but we're happy He-Who-Must-Be-Named is dead. It'd be good if you celebrated with us, y'know.”

There was only one thing that the Gryffindor boys' knew for sure, and that was that Karkat happened to be completely unaware of his role in Voldemort's defeat. The boy obviously knew he was famous, but what for he happened to be completely unaware. It was like Karkat knew only half of the story, the other half being kept in trust until the time was right or some such nonsense. Ron, upon coming to this realization a few weeks into term, quickly organized his yearmates into making sure that Karkat's ignorance (which they perceived as humbling innocence) remained in tact. The girls were only too helpful.

Apparently Karkat was absolutely adorable, which the boys couldn't fathom. Sure he was rather short for an eleven year old; he honestly looked like he was maybe five or six. So, the entirety of the Gryffindor first years (and some upper years courtesy of Fred and George) worked rather hard to deal with overzealous fans and the like, and Karkat was completely unaware.

It seemed, with Ron's final statement about the holiday growing into a celebration, Karkat finally uncurled himself from the ball atop the pile. He was still wary, glancing about the dorm periodically, checking for Culling Drones to burst through the walls. He absolutely refused to let go of his wand, in fact, even though he agreed to come with them to the great hall for the feast.

At first Karkat had fully expected there to be a Gallows set up, or perhaps a stage of some sort where the public cullings would happen, or that there would be the dead carcases of friends upon the table to dine from. However there was no stage, or Gallows, and no dead friends as food. In fact everything happened to be dreadfully normal.

Karkat relaxed, and eventually tucked his wand away and proceeded to just enjoy the festivities. It all seemed oddly _cheerful_ for such a dark holiday, and a part of Karkat still remained vastly skeptical. However he was young, and the cheer swept away any inclination to be careful instead. That is, of course, until Professor Quirrel came barging into the Great Hall, out of breath, and looking faint.

“Troll! Troll in the Dungeons!” the Professor exclaimed, staggering to the center of the Hall which fell silent. He had one hand pointed up, as if to make sure everyone realized the news was frightening and dire. Then, almost breathlessly he added, “Thought you ought to know,” and fell backwards into a dead faint.

The Hall remained silent for a second longer, and then burst into panicked cries. Karkat sat completely rigid, his eyes wide and he didn't breath out of fear. _Troll_ , Quirrel had said, like it meant something horrifying. Karkat didn't notice when the nubby-horned bastard stood up, shot off a loud noise with his wand, and proceeded to demand order in the Great Hall.

“Prefects, take your students back to your Common Rooms immediately! Line up in an orderly fashion, don't dally, quick as can be there you go.” As Dumbledore spoke the Prefects lined up their housemates and started off—Slytherin first, then Ravenclaw, then Hufflepuff, and lastly the Gryffindors—out the Great Hall and back towards their dorms. “Teachers, Heads of House, with me!” Dumbledore and the other adults, sans Quirrel, swept from the Great Hall as the students marched out in fierce, terrified whispers.

Ron and Neville jostled Karkat into the line with Dean and Seamus up ahead of them, and ahead of them the first year girls. Neville shook, lightly, out of terror despite that his face looked rather determined and his lips moved in a silent count. Beside him Ron stood stiff, seemingly unfrightened at all. He had Karkat's arm in a tight grip.

“Count's o-off,” Neville hissed to Ron. Karkat's ears twitched lightly, his limbs slowly began to loosen from their rigid frightened state. He took in a small, whirring breath. “G-girls down by one.”

“Prefects haven't noticed,” Ron muttered back, his eye solely trained on those ahead. He glanced over the girls. “Ruddy perfect, it's Granger.”

Karkat blinked slowly and tugged his arm out of Rons grasp as he asked, “What about the purrbeast in disguise?”

“She's missing,” Ron said lowly, and Neville added, “And she ran off earlier.”

Karkat scowled, pushed passed the other boys to reach the girls, and demanded, “Have you seen the purrbeast in disguise?”

The girls all paused and turned to look at Karkat as one for a second. Lavander and Pavarti giggled at the nickname, but then they shook their heads together.

“She ran off after charms,” Pavarti replied. “Why?”

Ron tugged Karkat back as Neville quickly interjected himself into Karkat's place. Neville and Ron shared a glance, first, and then Ron pulled Karkat out of the line. A second later Neville joined them. He looked frightened, nervous, as usual.

“S-She ran off to the bathroom,” he said hushed, watching as the rest of Gryffindor marched back to the tower. “No one's seen her since.”

Karkat nibbled on his lip. Something about a troll apparently meant danger, but the nubby-horned bastard hadn't seemed worried and nobody had outright attacked him. His mind worked furiously for a second, and then he snapped, “Well? What are you fuckasses waiting for, someone to light their goddamn bulge on fire?”

In that instant they moved, dashing down the corridor towards the girls bathroom. It didn't take them long to encounter a foul stench, and catch sight of the tail end of a club slipping through a door. Ron reacted first, leaping forward to slam the door shut. Karkat froze stiff beside Neville.

“What...was that?” he asked, shakily. That was no manner of monster he was used to. Neville swallowed heavily.

“A troll,” the pudgy boy replied.

Karkat's mouth dropped into a little 'o' of surprise. _That_ was a troll? That was no troll Karkat knew, unless it happened to be some sponge-retarded highblood. All three boys relaxed though, because it was behind closed doors. Except a second later there came a scream from inside the room and they all promptly paled.

“Purrbeast!” Karkat hissed. He and Neville leaped forward with Ron, and they tore open the door to the bathroom without even a second thought.

Hermione cowered back from the troll with wide, terrified eyes. The three boys didn't know what to do until Karkat roared at the beast, and leaped on its back. He slashed and hacked with his claws, his mind falling back away for instinct to take over. Neville grabbed Hermione and pulled her from the bathroom as Ron whipped out his wand and quickly cast the levitation charm.

It was all over within seconds, the troll out cold, and the four of them safe if a bit shaken up. Down the hall they heard footsteps, and without thinking they ran all the way back to Gryffindor tower. Surprisingly they were able to slip inside without anyone noticing, all three panting and shivering just past the portraithole while the feast continued on around them.

“I...fucking...hate...halloween,” Karkat gasped out. “Platonically.”

Hermione let off a giggle at his words, which spouted laughter from Ron, and then from Neville, and from Karkat himself. From then the trio of boys, became a quadruplet of friends.

* * *

_At the start of the day on Halloween_

Current considerateGregariousness [CCG] RIGHT NOW opened memo Planning TW: pl9tting, meddling, a6liest slurs, p9tentially triggering t9pics 9f discussi9n.

CCG: I appear t9 have run int9 a 6it 9f a pr96lem. Unf9rtunately things have pr9gressed and changed in such a way that the 9riginal plan cann9t unf9ld in its current state. We will need t9 adapt 9ur pr9cess t9 fit the changes that have already happened.  
? madVisionary [?MV] AT ?:?? responded to memo.  
?MV: Talk to gamzee Hell better be able to help than i will  
?MV: Im kind of busy atm anyway  
?MV: Also change the memo name or i will  
?MV: Youre being telling  
?MV: And you know if you wont then i will So consider this your only notice  
CCG: 6ut it is 9nly p9lite t9 place trigger warnings. S9metimes we d9 get 9n p9tentially triggering t9pics 9f discussi9n. Als9 I d9 6elieve that Karkat w9uld find 9ur c9nversati9ns very triggering as well. I will have y9u kn9w I am fully aware that at s9me p9int in 9ur future he punches me f9r that very reas9n. It w9uld 6e rude 9f me n9t t9 warn 9f p9tential triggers.  
? terminallyCapricious [?TC] AT ?:?? responded to memo.  
?TC: look motherfucker my best palebro ain't gonna be seeing none of this shit  
?TC: AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HE BE NEEDING TO SEE THIS  
?TC: because his current little wriggler sponge dont need to know what we all get up to  
?TC: ALL THESE WICKED LITTLE MIRACLES THAT WE BE PAINTING FOR MY MOST PALEST OF BROTHERS  
?TC: as that would just go and make the brother rightfully confused  
?TC: AND I KNOW YOU DON'T WANNA BE CONFUSING THE POOR GUY  
?TC: honk  
?TC: HONK  
?MV changed the name of the memo to PLOTS  
?MV: Since you didnt listen  
?MV: Now why dont you both figure out how to make everything work amongst yourselves  
?MV: I have to go prepare  
?MV: Maybe you can talk to another me and work this out Since this whole chat client has that weird temporal thing  
?TC: mother fucking miracles my most wicked of sisters  
? madVisionary [?MV]AT ?:?? ceased responding to memo.  
CCG: Ah, well may I c9unt up9n y9ur help then, Gamzee?  
?TC: sure brother why don't you lay down on me what you all be needing this motherfucking bard of rage to be up and doing for you  
?TC: FOR YOU MEANING FOR MY PALEST INVERTEBROTHER THAT DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT MIRACLES BE GOING ON FOR HIM  
CCG: Well y9u see 9riginally the plan inv9lved f9r the Knight t9 say s9mething hurtful t9 the Mage, except that Karkat's current demean9r has led f9r a strange unificati9n 6etween the entirety 9f his H9use. Y9u must 6e aware that I was against this plan fr9m the start.  
?TC: of course you were  
?TC: AFTER ALL YOU SAY YOU DON'T LIKE TO HURT NONE  
?TC: except then you open your mouth and clack your keys  
?TC: AND SPILL OUT ALL THAT EVER BRIGHT RED ONTO THE SCREEN WITH WORDS THAT HURT ALL AND ANY WHO READ THEM  
?TC: am I right  
CCG: ...that is n9t my intent I assure y9u.  
CCG: Anyway t9 c9mp9und up9n what I need help with, this manner 9f hurtful slurs against the Mages pers9n w9uld end with her in the a6luti9n6l9ck until the middle 9f dinner, wherein it w9uld then 6e revealed that a m9nstr9us 6east they call a tr9ll—and 6e aware this is n9t any kin t9 9urs they're merely alien m9ckeries and crude 9nes at that—wherein Karkat and the Knight w9uld then disc9ver the Mage's a6sence and g9 9ff t9 find her.  
CCG: Needless t9 say it was t9 end in their friendship. H9wever the intr9ducti9n 9f an Heir int9 the mix this early has, unf9rtunately thr9wn the entire scheme 9ff c9urse. My latest divinati9ns sh9w that the lum6ering 6east they call a tr9ll will still make an appearance, 6ut any f9rged 69nds 6etween the Mage, the Knight, and Karkat will 6e una6le t9 happen with9ut Karkat searching f9r her.  
?TC: I see what you are needing brother  
?TC: SEEING ALL WHICH THEM MIRACLES NEED TO BE HAD FOR YOU  
?TC: let me stir up some miracles for your needs  
?TC: YOU WILL FIND THAT MAGE GONE OFF TO THE ABLUTIONBLOCK JUST AS YOU NEED  
?TC: and the bonds you be wanting forged will happen just as you desire  
CCG: What...what are y9u d9ing? I can feel that all the way acr9ss parad9x space and int9 my game sessi9n. That sh9uld 6e imp9ssible. Gamzee what are y9u d9ing.  
?TC: whipping up a miraculous miracle for my conspiring mother fucker  
?TC: AFTER ALL WE BEING IN COHOOTS MEANS I SHOULD HELP A BROTHER OUT  
?TC: am I right?  
CCG: Seri9usly what are y9u d9ing Gamzee. It's affecting my a6ility t9 remain in this p9siti9n. I can feel Kurl9z staring at me.  
CCG: What are y9u d9ing—what—9h.  
CCG: 9h. Well that w9rks.  
?TC: honk :o)  
CCG: Just...please next time tag when y9u ch99se t9 d9 that. Chucklev99d99s leave 6ehind a s9ur taste in my m9uth. Especially when y9u ch99se t9 6last them acr9ss parad9x space like that. I swear I c9uld feel that int9 my game sessi9n which sh9uld 6e imp9ssible.  
CURRENT madVisionary [CMV]RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
CMV: What was that really bad feeling i got just now  
CMV: What did you two do  
CMV: What did i allow you two to do  
?TC: aww just setting up some wicked miracles my most wicked of sisters  
CCG: I ap9l9gize. Gamzee ch9se t9 use chucklev99d99s t9 help al9ng the plan since things have und9u6tedly changed fr9m their 9riginal incepti9n. Such as the Knight 6efriending the Heir much earlier than anticipated.  
CMV: Oh so thats how it happened Okay  
CMV: Are we done with this for now then  
CCG: Well I w9uld like n9w t9 6ring up a few issues I find c9ncerning, since we are all here and have the time.  
CMV banned CCG from responding to memo.  
CMV: I really dont think now is the time for kankrichat 8)  
?TC: sister you be mother fucking devious  
CMV: Thank you  
? terminallyCapricious [?TC] ceased responding to memo.

CMV closed memo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually started writing the Halloween portion, realized I should double back and explain that Karkat got in detention, is now friends with Neville, choose to skim over it instead. Mostly as by the time I realized I needed to do that, and then got around to fixing it, I forgot my original train of thought.
> 
> Suffice it to say they're all friends now. Have fun with that one.
> 
> And yes, Kankri, MV, and Gamzee all talk to one another. They make plans and plots. I'll probably just write a series of oneshots or something that invovles all the things I SHOULD have said, but completely forgot to our lost my train of thought to. I dunno. Either that or make it all end of chapter/start of chapter random inputs of “oh hey guys this shit happened like this!”
> 
> Needless to say, Gamzee went and chucklevoodoo'd the shit out of Hermione, and that's how she ended up in the bathroom. Don't ask me how he was able to, I'm not even sure to be honest. But then, I don't even know how he was able to chucklevoodoo John like he had long before the game either, but he did. So there.
> 
> I'm gonna ollie out, upload, and then slave through the hell that is coding this piece of monsterous crap. Oh god. WHY MEMOS GOD WHY.
> 
> Also, go check out [Potterstuck](http://fuckyeahpotterstuck.tumblr.com%22) (fuckyeahpotterstuck) on Tumblr. It was inspired by this. So go! (yes, shameless self advertising)
> 
> Potterstuck premise: In an apolocyptic world eight friends play a familiar game....


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